


When Did We Buy An Oven?

by Redrightankle



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Cranky Loki, Domestic!Avengers, Fluff and Angst, FrostIron - Freeform, M/M, Mpreg, Semi-Iron Man Three & Thor:TDW Compliant, Snarky Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrightankle/pseuds/Redrightankle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Tony attempts to embrace parenthood (once the denial passes, that is), the Avengers struggle to grasp the biology of it all, and Loki refuses to suffer alone.</p><p>Oh, the woes of an unplanned alien pregnancy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revelations Of an Unplanned Recipe

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, so this is my first story for this Fandom (and first fanfic posted to this site), and even though I never thought I'd write something like this...well, here I am! This story has no BETA, so if there are any mistakes please let me know so I can fix them. 
> 
> Anyway, let's get this show on the road, shall we?

His expression was priceless, his delivery- _perfect_ , and for a second he may have actually had him going. He probably _would have_ , if the claim hadn’t been so god damn ridiculous. _Props for trying, Bambi, but you’re gunna have to do better than that._

Replaying the moment over in his head, the engineer laughs louder, and makes a silent vow to have JARVIS play the footage on a loop the next time he is down in his lab. Perhaps he should make backups? And backups of backups? 

“Please, Stark, _do_ keep laughing.” The God cuts in dryly, folding his arms across his chest and setting his lips in an unimpressed line. 

Tony merely wheezes and flings a hand out to steady himself on the kitchen table. “Stop! Stop...oh God,” 

“ _Stark_.”

“No, no more! I-I can’t breathe!”

“ _Stark.”_

 ”Your face!”

“Stark!” 

 “I ca-aaah!“

The sudden clenching of a hand at his throat steals the laughter from his lips. And shit, did he just yelp? Yeah, yeah, he’s pretty sure he just yelped. _What the fuck is this?_ Not that having Loki’s slender fingers around his neck is unfamiliar, not by any means, what with their rather violent past, and their more recent penchant for some light strangulation during sex- but this, _this_ feels different. This isn’t just another case of foreplay.

His fingers are much too tight.

At first, Tony wonders if this is another facet of Loki’s ruse, an extension of the joke – a _twisted_ extension, certainly, but _come on_ , no one said Loki wasn’t a twisted fuck, the guy practically lived for the sinister, he breathed the depraved- but upon seeing the dark intensity in his eyes, the tightness of his jaw, Tony can feel his grin slip from his face.

He’s played Loki’s games many times, and he’s seen how cruel and malicious the God can be. Hell, he bears the brunt of a good 30% of Loki’s shit-stirring (the other 70%, of course, being divided between the other Avengers and, when the mood strikes him, the general public).Yeah, Tony’s used to Loki’s tricks _\- he’d want to be_ , considering it is almost 2 years since their little clusterfuck of an arrangement began, and _shit,_ when did that stop being weird? Prolonged exposure to the God must have warped ( _expanded_ , Loki would insist) his mind- but anyway, the point is, Tony is quite confident that in those 2 years he has learnt to read the other man considerably well.

Or, at least, _better than most._

And that’s what scares him.

Loki’s behaviour has always been erratic, but this…

Tony swallows thickly, as the hand at his throat slides to the back of his neck, and nimble fingers sink into his hair. The gesture could be an apology (unlikely), or even an attempt at comfort, but the disdainful curl to Loki’s lips and the way his eyes dart around the room before finally settling back on Tony’s make it feel anything but. 

“Loki-“

“-I make no jest, Anthony!” 

The statement rings out with an urgency that makes Tony cringe, and even though he wants to laugh again at the implications, to shout ‘bull shit’ and call up the commander in chief of the Academy Awards- _whoa baby, give the man the Oscar_ \- there is vulnerability there, and while he may be many things, Loki is not vulnerable (not visibly).

So what?

If he’s not joking then…

Tony’s eyes widen, and his mouth falls agape. Loki takes this as his cue to move away, turning so his back is to the engineer and his gaze is upon the large ceiling to floor windows. Tony watches as the God’s hand skims across the back of a dinning chair, the square of his shoulders and the tilt of his head, enough to make Tony feel nervous.

“You…” The word sticks in his mouth, idle and useless as his mind tries desperately to grasp at truths.

_He’s got to be shitting me, right?_

_Loki’s…_

_Fuck no._

“Ahh, okay…so,” Tony scoffs, a disbelieving laugh tearing its way from his throat, “you mind running that by me again? Because for a second there I thought you were- wait, you know what? No. This is just… _shit, Loki,_ it’s not even possible?!”

The God is silent for a moment, his face tilted to the floor and his hand tightening around the wood of the chair. “You would do well to remember, Stark, that I am not of Midgard. My biology is different. Though, I admit, I had not thought…” 

Loki stops, and Tony finds that his patience has run out. “ _What_ , Loki? _What?”_

Moving quickly, he whips around to face the engineer, eyes wild and almost violent. “You are _mortal_! We should not have been compatible! Not without conscious intervention!” 

Tony is startled by the desperation in his voice, cut and blistered with a hysteria that he has not heard in years, but even more jarring still, is the sight of Loki’s hand as it reaches up to rake through his hair. S _haking, fucking shaking._

And suddenly, his head spins, his heart sinks and reality snaps into place like the thick rubber of a band. This is happening, and all he can think is ‘how’? How did they get here?

He remembers the pranks, the streets covered in ice-cream, he remembers the battles, the injuries, the deaths. He remembers late night conversations, and the damages taken to his bar, the violence, the abuse, the…sudden understanding, the realisation.

He remembers leaving the door to his balcony unlocked after they had arguments, despite the fact that Loki never uses doors. The way the God’s body would slide in around him and how he’d press his lips to the spot between his shoulder blades- the closest he ever gets to an apology.

_“Stark…”_

_“Yeah, yeah. Now go to sleep, or piss off, capisce?”_

He remembers the hate sex, he remembers making lo- he remembers the _opposite to hate sex_. He remembers the fast sex, the rough sex, the slow…But what he _doesn’t_ remember, and he means really _does not_ remember (was he there? Was he consulted?), no, no what he DOES NOT remember is the ‘let’s-get-my-villainous-other-half-up-the-spat’ sex! Because he doesn’t remember putting on any mitts, preheating any appliances, mixing any batter, and _he sure as hell_ , doesn’t remember putting any buns in any ovens! Fuck, there shouldn’t even _be_ an oven! 

_Why_ is there an oven!? 

That wasn’t in the contract!

* * *

 

_“Now, let me just run over this one more time, so we’re all **crystal** clear here. You sign on that dotted line and your life will be **tied** to **his**.”_   _The director casts a definitive finger towards the God seated in the chair opposite him, forever regal despite his bruised face, “Four years is the minimum. He fucks up in that time, and all consequences, fines or punishments (and believe me, SHIELD is known for its creativity in that department), automatically fall to you.”_

_The engineer gifts him with a dull stare, “Yeah, yeah, I get it! My idea, remember?!”_

_Fury’s gaze narrows in irritation, sizing him up once more before pushing the contract towards him with a sarcastic flourish. “The agreement will be re-assessed when the four years are up, got that? **Four years**. Think you can handle a relationship that long?”_

_Yawning widely, Tony just waves a hand in dismissal, scribbles his name and shoves the papers back towards the director. “Four years, no worries, child’s play, we can handle it.”_

_“Well in that case, Gentlemen,” Fury announces wearily, loading the files into his briefcase. “You are free to go.”_

_Tony sighs (“finally”), and quickly struggles to his feet, Loki moving beside him, watching him closely and occasionally placing a steadying hand to his elbow when it looks as if he may be losing his balance. Usually he would hate being aided, especially by Loki, but damn if he wasn’t tired, and his leg was paining him something fierce…_

_“And Stark,” Fury pipes up when the retreating pair are nearing the door (“Shit, what now?”) “any change of circumstances will be reported to me **immediately,** is that understood? Major Injuries, illnesses, change in residences, relationship stances, children…”_

_Tony snorts, **“Children,”**_

_Because who, in God’s name, would give **them** children…_

* * *

 

_Well…Fuck._

Tony slumps down into one of the kitchen chairs and plops his head in his hands, the gravity of the situation making him feel like he weighs ten times more than he actually does…and that’s when he’s in his suit…after a day of binge eating…and he happens to have a two ton rhino sitting on his chest.

Because _, shit…_ Tony Stark is no stranger to the bizarre. He’s _Iron Man_. He rolls with a super-soldier, a demi-god, a couple of freakishly adept assassins and hmm…you know, a _Hulk_. He _lives_ the bizarre, he’s god damn _intimate_ with it. Picked out the curtains. Signed the lease….

But…

Loki _pregnant?_

With _his_ kid.

Shaking his head, he looks up at the God, his eyes wide and deeply confused. “How?”

Loki hesitates before answering, lips tight, jaw clenched – annoyed, as if he too can’t believe that he has to explain this. He stares at Tony for way too long, the tension in the room building, and not for the first time, the engineer curses Loki’s flair for drama. 

“I suspect…” the diva huffs out irritably as he rolls his eyes to the ceiling; the reluctance in his expression is blatant but impressively theatrical. “I suspect the side-effects I experienced following our battle with Amora may have been more extensive than first thought. Binding spells are known to be volatile even when performed by the most experienced mages…Amora failed in the binding, but she succeeded in creating interference.  If you recall, my magicks were erratic for days after…”  Loki meets Tony’s eyes meaningfully- the crux of the matter freezing on his tongue. “At times… I was _unable_ to maintain one form...” 

Tony feels his stomach lurch as he attempts to process this new information, he remembers the unexplained explosions (usually in the form of fruit randomly combusting...which was strange) and the way Loki had sometimes flickered in and out of existence without even knowing it, or he simply _changed_ , or froze, or fainted… 

_Interference_ he calls it– yeah, Amora certainly achieved that.

The battle itself was short lived but intense. She appeared when they were at their most vulnerable, as all good villains do -with Banner in India and both Clint and Natasha still sporting injuries from their previous mission. She had the advantage, and while her focus was almost entirely on Loki, she made sure that Tony and the other Avengers were not left out of the fun completely, taking great pains to ensure they came out of the battle boasting more than a few choice war wounds.  They all suffered. Hell, three months on and Tony is still making repairs on-

His breath catches in his throat, and he feels the words slip free before he can think twice about it, “Three months…”   _But that would…_

Emotion is suddenly bubbling and his head snaps up to look at the God, hoping to meet his eyes but being faced with the back of his head instead. “You’ve known _three months_ and you’re only choosing to tell me this _now?_ This is why, isn’t it? This is why you’ve been gone these passed two months!?”

The God doesn’t move, just continues to look out the window- his posture so damn regal that it grates on every nerve. Any other time his silence and mannerisms alone would be enough to confirm Tony’s suspicions, but this is too important. Tony needs to hear him say it. _“Loki!”_

“When I began to suspect…” the trickster sighs, his hands raking through his hair- clawing, “I know little of my _kind,_ Stark. I never had any interest in learning the ways of monsters. But when I began to suspect… I was forced to seek advice…to _research_ …to _run tests_.” He laughs bitterly as he shakes his head, “Do you know how long I denied it?” 

_Rhetorical question, Tony. Rhetorical question._

“About two months I’d say…” Tony mutters sourly as he watches the God pace up and down the room. Lucky for him, it doesn’t seem as though Loki has heard him, because if he had, Tony’s sure things would be taking a sharp turn for the deranged and violent. 

“When my fears were confirmed, I needed time to decide how best to proceed.” Loki pauses in his steps and turns to meet Tony’s eyes. “You _will not_ judge me for that, Stark.”

The engineer’s expression turns incredulous, “You don’t think that maybe, and I know this may sound _completely_ left field to you, but _maybe_ you should have…y'know _, involved me_ in that decision?” 

Loki’s face darkens and the tension in the room grows tenfold, and Tony knows that - one: he's said the worst thing possible, and two: shit was probably going to get heavy…or at least heavi _er_ , because let’s face it, things have been heavy ever since the whole ‘strangulation’ episode- not that it particularly bothered him, but that’s besides the point.  The point is Tony asked a reasonable question, and Loki, in typical Loki fashion, was going to make things as difficult for him as possible. Because he was a bastard…a selfish and impossible bastard. 

Cocking his head to one side, Tony meets his glare dead on, a snide smile pulling at his lips. “What, you disagree?” 

Loki stalks forward, his movements all catlike grace and threatening eyes, and Tony knows that if he weren’t so mad he’d be battling a raging hard on right now. “This is happening to _my_ Body, Anthony.  It is _my_ problem. Your _involvement_ will be whatever I allow it to be.”

Tony laughs and slides out of his chair, his anger verging on delirium. “ _Your_ problem?” he strides closer to the other man, stopping less than a meter from where he is standing and he notes bitterly that this is a close as they have been in over two months. “You think this is _your_ problem? Cause I gotta tell you, Prancer, I’m going to have to go ahead and call bullshit on that one. See I’m pretty certain that _half_ that problem happens to be mine, and when that problem gets bigger, that is _if_ it gets bigger, it’s going to pop out looking a hell of a lot _like me!_ So, you can just lose the whole macho-loner crap, cause Loki, this is-” he sighs shakily, his gusto suddenly replaced by uncertainty, “You can’t cut me out of this, Loki. It’s not an option.”

His stomach twists at the silence that follows, and he knows he should probably be bracing for a punch, or making a swift (but dignified) exit, followed by an equally swift (and dignified) dash to his suit. Hell, either option sounded good. But then again, anything would be better than what he was currently doing- standing stock still within the moody Norse God’s striking range. 

He should definitely move…

“I am here, am I not?” 

Tony pauses at the softly spoken words, and for the first time since his return, he actually looks at the God. Really looks at him- the pale, sallow skin, the sunken, green eyes (duller, wearier, older), the thin, ridged body, and he thinks _fuck._

Just _fuck._

Because the guy looks like shit. And while Loki looking like shit is still better than most people on a good day, it isn't _right_. In fact, it is wrong. All kinds of horrible, guilt inducing wrong.

_I'm an asshole._

Should he apologise? He probably should apologise...

_Wait, no. No, no, no._

He's hurting too. He has every right to be a dick, doesn't he? It's not like Loki has been all that forthcoming. Not really.

They have never been one of those open book couples. They don’t share every little concern they have, and they certainly do not ask for help unless it is absolutely necessary. Not to say they haven’t plotted together, strategized, brainstormed…they do that daily, but when it comes to anything deeper...They have learnt to read between the lines.  The details of their relationship are mostly unspoken and instinctual. Pepper once called them “typically male”, and yeah, Tony kind of agrees with her, feelings just aren't on the table when it came to conversation. The feelings are there, they both know it, what more is there to talk about? 

What _more?_

And that’s when Tony realises that he would have acted just the same. 

_What a lovely kick in the guts…_

Tony’s eyes soften as he takes in the man before him, all sharp angles and barely contained misery, and he sighs, “Fuck, I need a drink.”

 


	2. Three Sheets To The Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony gets drunk and wants to play a game of make-believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you all so much for reading, and to those who left kudos/reviews - I really appreciate it!  
> Second, sorry that this is a short chapter, but I decided to split this and the next one in two. So you get this half now and the next part in a few days when I get it finished. So, yeah, expect a faster update this time round!

The first drink feels like a god send.

The second, a relaxant.

By the fifth, he is beginning to think ‘clearer’.

By the sixth, he’s developed a plan.

Between the seventh and the eighth, he thinks that perhaps he is ready to talk about it, but by the ninth (Tenth? Eleventh?) well…the plan has become a little hazy, and he admits (at least to himself) that maybe he’s gone too far. But hey, Loki apparently can’t drink anymore, so technically he’s drinking for two…or is it _three?_

Tony considers this for a moment, his mind conjuring up strange images of him in a bar with a baby carrier strapped to his front and a beer bottle in one hand, playing the old ‘one for you one for me’ with the infant, while he tries desperately not to look at the puddle of baby vomit in his lap. 

Tony shudders. 

See, this is why he isn’t cut out for fatherhood.

Not that he thinks he’d actually feed alcohol to the kid….or foetus…or whatever the hell it is at the moment, but he is bound to screw the little bastard up somehow. _Bound to_.

And Loki, he can’t imagine he’ll be much good at the whole child rearing thing. The guy doesn’t have a maternal bone in his body, and let’s face it…he’s so damn selfish he can rarely see passed the end of his nose. Not to mention his _morals_.

Shit, his _morals_. They could potentially be growing a super villain of global proportions here. This child could be the next Hitler, or Osama, or…George Bush. 

Or worse! Because their kid will be part frost giant, and will probably inherit Loki’s magic, and Tony’s brain and _their_ narcissism and Loki’s insanity and-

 _No, you know what. Just no._ He’s getting ahead of himself. He needs to get back on track and think about the plan. It is a good plan. A fool proof plan. And yeah, it’s…a plan. 

Tossing back one more mouthful of scotch, Tony looks to the god seated beside him, noting the blankness of his eyes as he spins a steak knife on the table top. He wonders how far away his thoughts are, and whether they are anything like his. Somehow, he doubts it.

“So uhh, alright!” Tony exclaims, claiming Loki’s attention. “This is what we’re going to do!”

Loki raises an eyebrow and turns his body to face the engineer. He doesn’t look particularly amused (or even interested, for that matter) with his chin resting on one hand and a dark look in his eyes, but Tony is determined to at least soften some of the tension in the room.  “So firstly _,i dearest_ , I’ve got a small request…”

 _Once again_ , the god _does not_ look particularly amused.

 “Ohh? And what would that be?” Loki’s eyes slide briefly back to the knife, twirling it once more with his index finger, before dismissing it to the other side of the table. 

Tony sees the action as a good sign (removing distractions, focusing attention and all that) and decides to continue with his tirade. He is, after all, quite keen to get things moving towards a more _beneficial_ (for him) arena, and away from all the angst and uproar of the passed hour.  Not that he expects his attempts to be appreciated, mind you, but a drunk Stark mind, is a drunk Stark mind, and a Drunk Stark mind only cares about one thing – Drunk Stark.

And at the moment, Drunk Stark is a little _fixated_. 

“Okay, so” he begin seriously, “While I understand your urgency, I must _request_ that _next time_ you want to lump something like this on me, especially after going AWOL for an extended period of time, that you have the _decency_ to do so _after…_ you’ve blown me.” He sighs with feigned chastisement, “I mean _really Loki_ , you know I’m more open minded post-orgasm!” 

So maybe he’s fixated on something which isn’t as conductive to the situation as it could be, but he’s not seen Loki in two months _. Two months_ , that means, _two months_ of nothing but porn, his right hand, and Loki’s favourite pillow (which he should probably have cleaned..).

Fuck, he’s distracted.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he returns his attention to the present. Watching (invested as he is) as Loki’s face crumbles into a look of bemusement and for a second the dullness in his eyes gives way to their usual mischief. Tony dances internally at the accomplishment, and his body heats pleasantly at the prospect of things going his way. 

“How foolish of me.” The god finally drawls, sarcasm hidden beneath velvety words. “I assure you the next time I need to reveal something of such weight; I will thoroughly service you front and foremost.”

_Yes, yes…service. Front and Formost._

 Now, your plan?”

_Right, right the plan…_

Tony hesitates before speaking, because Loki could take this one of two ways. He could embrace it and they’d soon be divesting each other of clothes and fucking like jack rabbits, or Loki will find some medieval way to call him an idiot and the hour’s tension will return with an almighty vengeance. Tony takes a deep breath and hopes for the former.

  _So far he’s been pretty receptive, right?_

_Right?_

_Shit._

“Alright, so…” Tony takes a deep breath, knowing that he needs to get the important stuff out of the way first before he gets carried away again, “I want to run some tests, blood tests, ultrasound, all the usual stuff…” Loki opens his mouth to protest, but Tony raises a silencing hand and rushes on. “Not that I don’t trust your word here, Liar Liar, but I’m a ‘seeing is believing’ kind of guy and doing this will put my science-loving mind at ease. Alright? Good, now, on to my favourite part…” Tony pauses for dramatic effect, slowly standing from his seat to approach the other man. He smiles wryly as he positions himself between Loki’s legs, hoping that the added closeness after so long apart will sway the god to his way of thinking. 

_Yeah, good luck with that, Stark._

Loki’s apprehension is almost palpable. 

“It will take a day or so for me to gather what we need, and a few hours still for the tests to be finalised, so…I suggest, until that time, we forget this _whole conversation_ ever happened.” Tony grins awkwardly and gestures to the door. “I’ll nip out of the room, re-enter as if I’m not expecting you, you give me that predatory ‘you’re the sexiest specimen on Midgard’ look and we go down to the Avenger’s pool and fuck loud enough for everyone in a 2 mile radius to hear us…” he winks, suggestively, “And that, my dear, includes your beloved thunder brother.”

So perhaps the plan is a long shot, but he is three sheets to the wind and in no way opposed to denial. He just hopes that Loki is feeling accommodating. The problem is, it is so hard to garner when the guy is such a blank canvas. 

“I was lead to believe that _you_ are the sane one in this partnership.” 

_Banter, yes! Good sign, very good sign._

Tony has to restrain himself from launching forward and latching himself on to the god, to his collarbone or…perhaps a nipple (man he loves when Loki wears casuals) when the god raises himself gracefully from his seat, apparently willing to play along.

“Well, you know,” Tony smiles cheekily as he sidles (so damn restrained) ever closer to the God, and places two calloused hands on the taller man’s hips. “Sanity is for unimaginative workaholics, and boring people. And, babe, we ain’t boring.”

Loki smiles down at him with a dark glint of mischief in his eyes, “You spend twelve hours, of each day, in your _lab_ and yet you do not class yourself a workaholic?”

 Tony grins as he points a corrective finger. “Workaholic, _yes_. _Unimaginative_? _No_.”

Loki just rolls his eyes, murmuring a sardonic “of course,” before moving to slide his hands beneath the engineer’s t-shirt. 

Tony shivers at the soft touches ghosting over his back, the act encouraging the God to dip his face to the side of his neck and run his perfect lips along the column, stopping just below his left ear. “The pool?”

“Mmm, pool.” Tony moans almost unintelligibly as he tilts his face back to press his lips to Loki’s. He can feel the alcohol pumping through his veins, he’s hot, and he’s horney and…fuck, even a little bit dizzy. And god, if that feeling doesn’t intensify when Loki surges forward to deepen the kiss, and suddenly he’s all lips and tongue and teeth, gnashing together aggressively, spitefully, recklessly. A bite to his lip and a sharp scratch to his back and then-

Holy flying fuck! He’s drowning! 

He flails around frantically as the water surrounds him. His legs kicking out in desperation as the unexpected chill awakens every nerve in his body. He begins to panic, but just as quickly as he’s submerged, he’s breaking the surface, a hand yanking his head from the depths by the back of his shirt. 

He splutters noisily, hacking water out of both his mouth and nose. He can hear Loki snickering above him, and he swears to the god he doesn’t believe in, that he is going to get the tricky bastard back one way or another, pregnant or not. 

“Oh Stark, I do hope our offspring inherits your charm and poise.”

“What the fuck, Loki! You evil-” He glares up at the man crouched by the side of the pool, “that was- That was NOT cool, _not_ cool! Who the-” 

The engineer’s complaints are cut in half when Loki draws him in, a hand to the back of his neck and a kiss to his lips, and then…nothing. Tony opens his eyes to see him standing a meter or so from the pool, his arms crossed over his chest and face unreadable. Tony gets the feeling that his plan may have been a touch unreasonable…

_Insensitive, maybe?_

And he knows that in the morning, when he’s re-thinking tonight’s choices, he’s going to regret the last fourteen drinks (because he’s sure it was more than eleven now, considering how vague his thought processes and his lack of self-preservation). Somewhere along the line, he stopped _reading_ Loki…and that is always a big mistake.

“I will agree to your tests, Stark.” 

Tony looks up at that, surprised by the sudden admission. 

“But I refuse to play your games.” The god levels him with a rather bland look, before walking towards the door, “Wake me when your toys arrive, but give me four hours, no earlier. I _suggest_ you sober up in that time.”

Tony pouts as the door closes behind him and he moves to rest his chin atop the pools edge. “Unfair…”

_I always play **his** games…_


	3. Confirmation puts a Damper on my Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultrasounds are such a magical thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this took a little longer than I thought it would, but it's up now so WOO! Hope you enjoy it! And thanks again to everyone who left kudos and to those who reviewed. I love to hear feedback, or even suggestions. So please drop me a comment, they fill me with so many happy, fuzzy feelings!

 

 

 

So, even though he knows that it is fairly ( _see: completely_ ) necessary for him to be sober for this, Tony can’t help but feel that he has made a huge mistake in leaving that bottle of finely aged red, sitting _alone_ on his kitchen counter. 

“Okay, so, now, ahh…I’ll get you to…” Tony motions vaguely to the examination table, his voice trailing off as he moves to file away Loki’s blood samples. 

Fuck, he’s nervous- not about his technology (technology is his bitch after all), or even the biology, he’s done his research, and he’s confident in what to look for despite not having actually performed an ultrasound before (experience is relative when you are a genius)… but, nervous for what the tests might show, and what will inevitably come after.

Because if he sees what Loki tells him he will, he can almost guarantee that a mental breakdown is on its way.

For him, and- more than likely- for men of science everywhere. 

Hell, maybe even for science in general. 

Which would be typical, Loki breaking science. He has always taken a sick pleasure in destroying Tony’s favourite things – shirts, cars, his _aquarium_. True, he probably would have lost interest in it within the fortnight and had it removed himself, but he’d only had the thing two days when Loki decided to play hide and seek with his (very expensive) tropical fish. To this day, he still cringes every time he puts his hands in his gauntlets. 

“You seem uncomfortable, Stark.”

Tony sighs as he makes his way back to the examination table where Loki is now perched, rather casually, with his long legs dangling over the side. “Yeah well, this isn’t _exactly_ what I had planned for your first few days back.” 

The god smiles regrettably, as he watches him moves around the table to adjust the settings on the ultrasound, one finely arched brow raised in interest. “Ohh, and what _did_ you have _planned_? Because I must tell you, Stark, your last “plan” left much to be desired.”

Tony laughs softly as he turns back to Loki – the machine fully prepped, and a tube of rather ominous gel ready and waiting beside the monitor. “Oh believe me, babe,” he replies smoothly, gesturing for Loki to lie down on the table. “You would have liked this one.”

Loki just releases a noncommittal hum as he arranges the pillows behind his head, an indulgent expression settling over his features.  _Indulgent-_ when is Loki ever indulgent with him? When did they start pretending?

It isn’t them, this civility. They don't ‘play nice’ for the sake of avoiding conflict. They are always at odds. They are at odds even when they aren’t at odds. It’s just how they work. _And it works._ For Loki to be pretending that he is not harbouring the deepest feelings of irritation and rage, and for Tony to actively be going along with it…well, it just shows how bad Loki is expecting things to get. He’s making a concession. He’s giving Tony a taste of his last request (“forget this _whole conversation_ ever happened”). Only nights ago he would have been ecstatic.  But now…

Tony looks down at the god as he settles himself on the pillows, his hair splaying out about his head- a chaotic splatter of dark strands on white cotton.  Their gazes meet instinctively, like their thoughts have entwined, drawn them together.  And it’s all there in Loki’s green eyes. The game and its rules. The truth and the lies. All the emotions which he shows Tony so freely, but the game depicts he must pretend to hide. 

The trickster smiles, only slightly, the sweet curl of his lips singing the challenge to his engineer _(“Will you play with me, Anthony?”)_. 

Tony leans down to press his mouth to Loki’s _(“Do you really need to ask?”)._

Their lips move slowly, tenderly, all honeyed and false, the perfect contradiction to the chagrin of their emotions, their anger and irritation at each other, and the crawling fear of their circumstance. Loki makes a pleased noise as he slides his fingers into Tony’s hair, pulling him in and parting his lips. Tony can feel himself _forgetting_ when his tongue finally meets Loki’s and bracing himself with one forearm upon the table, he allows his other hand to wander, skimming up the length of Loki’s thigh to rest on his hip. His hand lingers there for a few moments, fingers circling over the prominent curve of his hip bone, familiar and sharp - like he’d been made with perfect handles for Tony to grip, pull and push.

Loki moves then, arching up into the body above him, the action too perfectly sensual to be instinctive, and way too far from Loki’s usual depraved and reckless, ‘take, take, take’, to be anything but contrived.  Tony almost laughs at the ridiculousness of it, but chooses instead to distract himself by running his calloused fingertips up Loki’s side, the barely-there touches causing the man below him to squirm and his lips to curl into a rebellious smile against his own. _God’s aren’t ticklish, my ass._

With one more strategic stroke to the side, Loki gasps and breaks away from Tony’s mouth. 

The engineer just smiles sweetly, and touches his nose to the trickster’s. Because there is nothing that disgusts Loki more than an Eskimo kiss and Tony damn well knows it. “Ticklish, Darling?”

Loki’s eyes flash, and for a brief second, his mask slips and all the anger and discomfort he’s feeling swirls in his deep green irises for anyone to see. Tony marks the slip-up as a small win for him and files the moment away in his memory-box of oh-so-great-achievements. 

“Not ticklish,” Loki’s lips curl bitingly, his sarcasm shining through despite his pleasant tone, “merely discomfited by the _roughness_ of your fingertips, my love.”

Tony laughs as he takes in the man below him, the finely versed insult causing a random flair of affection to ignite in his chest.  Fuck, he’s missed him these past two months – his quick mind (and even quicker tongue), his skin, his smell…his _body._ God, so much of him wants to launch on top of the examination table and straddle Loki’s bony hips, take their game to the next level…or better yet, forget their game all together and have insane, hate sex like the good old days. 

But, _shit…_

Despite his doubts, Tony’s palm moves over the god’s waist (firmer this time), rubbing up and down in a confident caress. He leans in to press his lips (teeth) to Loki’s jaw, biting, sucking, tasting. The god’s hand clenches around the back of his neck, forcing him closer, to bite harder, and all the while Tony’s hand moves of its own accord, up, down, up, down, across. His fingertips exploring soft white skin as if they haven’t felt it in years, (across, across), his thumb grazes the god’s stomach and suddenly everything freezes.

 Because it isn’t the old days.

There’s a reason Loki is on this examination table and not naked, between the sheets of their bed.

And there is a reason why they are both feeling so unhinged. 

Breaking the kiss, their eyes lock, and all the tension surges back in a suffocating wave that forces Tony to straighten and Loki to grit his teeth. The room is suddenly too hot, _stifling_ and almost unbearable. 

Silence stretches, as they attempt to gather themselves, the engineer’s rough hands running awkwardly through his hair, while the god feigns interest in rolling one of his wrists. After a particularly repulsive, ‘crack, crack, crack’, Loki sighs and redirects his gaze to the man beside him. “Should we not get this over with?” 

The question is simple, and _man_ , it _makes sense_ , but for some reason it takes Tony longer than it should to find an answer. Thankfully though, he is still a quick thinker, and after only a few short minutes, he finally settles on a rather intelligent “yeah, let’s do that.”

Taking a deep breath, Tony throws himself into the technicalities of it all, attempting to separate himself from the situation by concentrating on what needs to be done instead of the reality. But distractions can only last so long, and sooner than he’d like, a t-shirt is rolled up, pants pushed low and that ominous gel is spread across a smooth white stomach. If he wasn’t so on edge Tony would have laughed at the look of displeasure that spreads across Loki’s face at the touch of the gel to his skin, but unfortunately, nothing can draw his thoughts from the fact that in a few moments his life may be upended. He could be _a father_. Tony Stark could be a father.

“Okay,” Puffing out a harsh breath, Tony claps his hands together, “Let’s get this freak-show on the road, shall we?”

He cringes. _Freak-show?_

_Real smooth, Stark._

Thankfully, Loki doesn’t seem particularly bothered by his screw up, favouring him with a roll of his eyes before sliding his gaze to the ceiling. He waits silently as Tony fumbles with the transducer probe, tensing briefly when its smooth surface touches his stomach. It takes Tony a little time to get the thing to do what he wants it to, to apply the right pressure and find the right settings, and even longer for him to actually locate anything worth locating. In all honesty, the longer he spends searching, the more he begins to think that, _hey_ , maybe there isn’t anything to find

And didn’t he feel like a jerk for hoping.

Tony frowns down at Loki as he becomes restless (obviously annoyed with how long this is taking), his body wriggling beneath the apparatus, and jostling the probe in an awkward direction that causes Tony to apply more pressure…and that does it. 

It’s there.

 _Right there_.  All zero-point-seven inches of it. 

_Zero-point-seven..._

_Wait._

Zero-point _-fucking_ -seven!?

Noticing his sudden stillness, Loki darts his gaze back to the display screen. “Stark?”

Tony can’t even look at him, his insides crawling with something he hasn’t felt since high-school.

 “JARVIS, I want all data, screen captures, blood results, saved to my file and I want that file in lockdown, understand? No one is to access it but me.” 

“Consider it done, Sir.”

“Great. _Well_ , Reindeer Games,” he begins as he wipes the gel off the probe harshly, before pausing to throw a towel in the direction of the god, “seems you don’t lie _all the time_.” 

_Come on, lie to me again, you bastard._

Loki just stares at him with a deadpan expression, choosing to ignore the jab completely and get to work on removing the gel from his person. 

Tony wants to scream. His mind reels as he recalls his research, sizes, dates…and the more he thinks about it, the more he’s sure.  Something is wrong. And not just in the obvious ‘I got my boyfriend pregnant’ kind of wrong…but in the ‘this doesn’t add up’ kind of wrong. And god, he just can’t handle it.

Needing some distance, Tony strides over to the other side of the room and makes a show of busying himself with clearing away the medical equipment. His anger is building, and a terrible nausea has settled in the pit of his stomach. 

_It doesn’t add up._

_It just doesn’t fucking add up!_

“It’s too small.”

The sound of Loki’s feet meeting the floor causes Tony to turn around once more, “You said you’re three months?” 

The god nods, leaning his hip against the examination table. “Yes, it is as I told you.”

Tony grits his teeth and forces his face into a neutral expression. Really, he doesn’t know what he’d been expecting. “You sure about that?”

Loki’s eyes narrow as he observes Tony from across the room, gaze heated and inquisitive- _amused_ , as if he finds the prospect of confrontation to be just another thrill in their already volatile predicament. “Why, Stark!” he simpers tauntingly, touching a hand to his chest, “Is that suspicion I hear?” His mouth twists, “Or perhaps it is… _jealousy_. Either way, I _assure you_ , your concern is positively _delicious._ ”

The god’s face contorts into a provoking leer, but Tony refuses to bristle, managing to maintain his blank expression despite his increasing ire. “Loki,” he asserts evenly, wanting nothing more than to throw himself across the room and punch him in his smug jerk face. “Do I have a reason to be jealous?”

Because that’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it? 

The silence that follows is strained to say the least, but Tony knows that if he is the one to break it, he will never get the answer he needs. So he waits, watching the god as he watches him- his serious gaze meeting one of glimmering challenge. Eventually, however, the smugness falls away from Loki’s expression, and an exaggerated sigh is forced from his lips. “Must I continue to remind you, Anthony?” Loki crosses his arms over his chest and leans further back against the examination table, his tone verging on blasé, “This child is a _half-breed._ ”

Tony’s eyes narrow at the look of distaste that crosses Loki’s face, not sure whether it’s the _speaking of the child_ which has inspired such an expression, or the thought of the child’s _mixed blood._ Either way, something about it doesn’t sit well with Tony- and yeah, the fact that he's bothered is a strange concept too (is this his parental instincts kicking in?). “What’s your point, Loki?”

Loki sighs again and straighten from his slouch, “Well, it is _only logical_ that the gestation will fall somewhere between the Human’s nine months, and the Frost Giant’s fifteen. Honestly, Stark, you call yourself a genius.”

Tony snorts, finding it almost impossible to speak around the overwhelming mirage of emotions that are suddenly surging through him. _S_ _hit_ , he didn’t even know that feeling this many conflicting emotions at once was even a thing. Because, holy fuck, what is happening?  

Is he relieved?

Is he disappointed?

What?

_What?_

The sound of the door slamming suddenly smacks him from his thoughts. Another one of Loki’s timely exists apparently, always the god-damn drama queen. Though, he supposes he has good reason this time round. He can’t imagine it being much fun standing around watching someone as their once-genius brain shatters into a million crazy little pieces. Then again, Loki _is_ a sadist.

“Shall I inform you as to when the results of Mr. Laufeyson’s blood tests arrive, Sir?” 

Tony flinches, his attention still focused on the place where Loki stood only seconds before, and realises -for the second time- that his mind must have wandered off. “I-uhh….Yeah, you may as well.”

Though, there really isn’t any point, is there?

He already got his proof. He’d seen the flicker of that new heartbeat.

The impossible has happened (and man, it feels like his world is ending).

Loki is pregnant, and he…

For all his genius, thinks he is experiencing the beginnings of a breakdown. Happy days are most certainly ahead!

 

 


	4. My Cancerous Norse God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony decides to man up. Sort of.

 

 

Tony isn’t avoiding Loki.

_He isn’t._

Okay, he hasn’t seen the God since that very special day in the med-lab… and that was going on five days ago now.

But really, he isn’t avoiding him. They just haven’t crossed paths yet. It happens.

Stark Tower is a big place, and Loki…he’s an elusive guy, hell, even now Tony doesn’t know where exactly Loki’s been for the past two months and somehow he doubts the god will ever feel the need to tell him, no matter how he hounds.

Because Loki’s slippery like that - if he wants to disappear, he’ll _disappear._ Damn anyone (namely Tony and Thor) who object, question or interfere. It is just how things work when you’re dating a highly volatile, often moody, unpredictable Norse God – sometimes (too many times), they are bound to slip through your fingers, despite how deep you sink your nails (teeth?) into their leg. 

_It’s the Houdini effect._

_Now you see him, now you don’t._

_Another game of magical hide and seek – impossible to win, for Loki can’t lose._

Tony sighs softly as he pinches the bridge of his nose, a sharp stabbing pain flickering behind his eyes. 

The rules to hide and seek are easy- one hides, one seeks- roles interchangeable. 

Only they _aren’t._

Not when they play. When they play, Loki is the only one to hide. And Tony…Tony can only wait for his return ( _impossible to win_ ). 

But this time is different.

Loki hasn’t disappeared. 

In fact, Clint made a point of telling Tony just how much the God’s been around, _insinuating himself_ into the lives of the Avengers – his in particular. Tony hadn’t thought much of it at the time, more amused by the archer’s hysterical ranting than fretting about the possibility of him being a cowardly cunt – sneak spooning under the guise of being Natasha is apparently a big no-no to Clint Barton- but now that he thinks about it, if Loki isn’t hiding then… 

...

 _Nah_ , he isn’t avoiding Loki. 

_He isn’t._

He’s just had stuff to do. 

In his lab.

Far away from living areas, eateries, and places where other people dwell _in general_ , and if that includes the God of Mischief, well, that really isn’t his fault, is it?

Of course not. His work is important. 

Tony sighs miserably as he fiddles with his newest project. It’s rubbish, no doubt about it- practically pointless and ugly to boot. When the need arises, Dummy has no trouble fetching him a bottle opener, so what’s the point of making it a permanent fixture? And did he have to make it so gaudy, and _unnecessarily technical?_

Sighing again, Tony tosses the useless invention to the other side of the desk, a deep frown spreading across his features. For a few moments, he just sits there glaring at the offending object, feeling his anger build. The god damn time waster, it is all its fault. If it weren’t for the creation of that lame-ass invention, he could have sought out Loki, sat down and had a big ol’ chat about babies, and parenting and pregnancy and….abortions _(wait, no! BAD!)._

But no. He had to sit here for an hour and a half pouring over _that_ piece of _junk_ because…

_Fuck._

He’s avoiding Loki.

Why didn’t he realise sooner? He _should_ have. What with the meticulous repairs to his suit, the upgrades to all six of his sports cars, the _cleaning_ of his lab. That last one should have been a dead give-away _, cleaning?_ Tony Stark doesn’t _clean_ \- he builds robots for that kind of stuff, the fact that he felt the need to do such a mindless job personally…well. Something has to be up. 

Groaning in frustration, Tony swipes his latest failure onto the floor with an angry clatter. It isn’t like he hasn’t been thinking about Loki…he’s been thinking about Loki every minute of-

“Bad time?”

Tony jolts at the unexpected voice, bashing his knee on the leg of the desk in his rush to spin around. He often forgets that Pepper still has clearance to his lab, especially now that her visits are becoming far less frequent and all the more business orientated. “I-uhh…No, no. I’m just-”

Pepper raises a finely sculpted brow. “ _Tony…_ ”

Tony sighs, because he knows that tone, and he knows that it’s useless to try and lie to her, but _shit_ , there’s no way he can tell her what’s actually going on. So what? A vague truth? He’s good at those.

Rolling his eyes, Tony plasters on his most defeated expression, “Yeah, alright, so my head’s kinda everywhere at the moment, ya know? Overthinking things, avoiding personal crisis, trying to slow the mental breakdown that is becoming oh-so inevitable,” Tony shrugs at the strange look he’s sent, probably because Pepper isn’t used to him being so forthcoming without any serious persuasion. He has made her more suspicious, no doubt about it, and inwardly he curses himself for not thinking things through.

Waving a dismissive hand, Tony attempts to flash a casual smile, “Yeah, you’re right. It’s no biggy. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Pepper says nothing, but her expression turns wary, almost curious, as she walks further into the room, her briefcase clutched in one hand and her heels clacking softly against the tile. She moves to settle herself on the edge of his desk, an action which only a few years ago would have inspired all sorts of inappropriate thoughts, but now feels forced and uncomfortable. Oh, how times have changed.

“James asked me to give you these,” The red-head began, as she pulls a file from her case. Tony feels a little guilty at the level of relief that washes through him. _Business._ “Hammer corp.’s newest prototypes. He wants you to take a look at them before they get through to the military.” 

Tony nods as he looks over the blueprints. The prototype was something resembling the Jericho- a missile to take lives, and to be fired once- only with more bells and whistles- because it seems even with Justin Hammer no longer at the helm, his company remains hell bent on out doing him. Tony grunts irritably and pushes the plans away, the idea of aiding in weapons manufacture, even if only as a consultant, still not sitting well with him despite having done so many times over the years. 

Pepper sends him a sympathetic look, adding quietly that “James said he’ll drop by tomorrow afternoon- wants you to give him a call when you’re free.”

Tony snorts at that, once again thinking back to his unusual bout of not-so-spring cleaning- he cleaned his _drawers_ for Christ’s sake! Finding free time wasn’t exactly an issue.“Yeah, I’ll get right on it.” He mutters drily, standing from his seat and shuffling towards the small kitchenette. “Coffee?”

He can feel Pepper’s eyes follow him as he crosses the room, her inquisitive gaze setting him on edge. 

“No…thank you.” She replies finally, straightening from her perch to wander idly about the room, her fingers trailing over the smooth surfaces of the various work benches. “So, uhh, I see that Loki’s back…”

Not turning around, Tony busies himself with stirring milk into his coffee. “Yeah, bout a week.”

“You don’t sound very pleased about it,” Pepper remarks dully, “Don’t tell me he’s finally lost his charm.”

“What? Loki?” Tony scoffs, setting his drink aside and turning to lean his back against the counter, “Nooo, never. The guy’s a peach. Easy to live with, low maintenance, no psychotic tendencies what-so-ever.”

Pepper laughs, sweet and genuine, which is a rare thing when it comes to ‘anything Loki’, and Tony has to wonder if more has changed than he first thought. 

To say that Pepper never entirely warmed to the Loki is an understatement, really it is, but knowing their history, he really cannot blame her for holding a grudge. After all, when Loki waltzed back into Tony’s life,only a year after the events in New York, Pepper and Tony were still very much involved- in love and to all intents and purposes, happy. Or, at least, that is how it appeared to onlookers. 

Reality, of course, was a different matter entirely- the love was there, but they were struggling, and they probably had been for quite some time. Loki’s reappearance just amplified it, reaffirmed doubts and gave Tony the distraction he needed, an out for his anger and a break in the routine that had fallen around him. He never intended for it to be anything else. Loki was supposed to drive him back to Pepper, to show him how good he had it, how perfect she was, but somewhere down the line things got fucked up.

Truths came out.

Relationships were shattered. 

And Tony found himself committing to a Norse God.

 A Norse God he really needed to talk to.

“Whatever you say, Tony.” Pepper’s light voice brings him out of his thoughts, and briefly he is baffled by the emotions that pass across her face. She is beautiful- the way she tries, the way she continues to love him despite all he’s put her through. One of his most painful regrets is hurting her as he did, but if he didn’t…

He really needs to speak to Loki.

“I swear, he still thinks I’m your maid, Tony.”

The engineer snorts at that- at the feigned, awkward anger on her face. “It’s not funny. As soon as I stepped out of the elevator I was being “advised” that making him a sandwich would be “in my best interest”. Honestly, Tony. I don’t know how you put up with his pompous attitude, it’s infuriating.”

“Did you do it?”

Pepper frowns, “What?”

“Make him a sandwich.”

The expression that follows that statement is almost comical- all wide eyes and gaping mouth. “What? Of course not!” she splutters indignantly, her voice rising to a shrill screech, “I’m _not_ your maid, Tony! And I certainly won’t be running errands, _making lunch_ , or doing _anything else_ for your rude, egotistical, psych- ” 

Pepper pauses, apparently noticing the amusement on Tony’s face, and the way his lips were pulled tight in an effort to contain a smile. 

“I hate you sometimes.”

“Don’t be silly, Pep. No one can hate _this_.” 

Pepper rolls her eyes as he gestures to his body in a way that is so flamboyant, it verges on camp. “Alright, Tony.” She throws back tartly, shaking her head as she collects her things, “I’m going. Don’t forget to call James, will you?”

“Yeah, yeah” Tony waves loftily and takes a long sip of his coffee, watching the red-head over the rim of his mug. 

“I mean it, Tony. _Don’t forget_. Oh! And…” Pepper spins on her heel, a sly look overcoming her gentle features, “I have yet to send warning to the others, but… _Loki_ …he appears to be watching Invader Zim.”

Tony groans.

 

* * *

 

“Just so you know. I don’t like this. Not one bit! No-sir-ree! I’m completely, 100% against it.”

“Oh?” Loki purses his lips in feigned innocence, eyes never once leaving the screen, “I find the concept _refreshingly_ relatable.”

“Well duh! That’s why I don’t like it!” Tony frowns childishly and sinks low on the lounge, watching the god out of the corner of his eye. Loki remains silent but Tony can sense the smugness radiating off him in snide, bastardly waves _(the snide, snide bastard_ ) and he hopes that Pepper followed through in her warning to the other Avengers, because there is no way this can end well.

Loki is oddly impressionable when it comes to television, and contrary to his complaints, he’ll watch just about anything. This was proven late one evening when Tony found him watching reruns of the _Bachelorette_ in the communal lounge room, his bright green eyes intent and focused as he watched the drama unfold on screen. The trashy marathon went on for two days before Clint swanned into the room, collapsed on the couch and proceeded to spoil the ending. Outwardly, Loki seemed unaffected by the revelation, but that night Clint found his mattress stuffed with particularly thorny rose stems. 

After that the Archer was a bit more wary whenever the God took to the television. In fact, the following weeks saw the banishment of many of the Tower’s movies and box sets. _Dexter, South Park_ and, to both Tony and Clint’s chagrin, _Always Sunny in Philadelphia_ DVDs were removed quickly, because while Tony can handle a night of drinking wine out of an empty soda can (hell, it was even enjoyable- because, come on, that’s _sneaky_ \- when enduring one of Fury’s pointless debriefings), but he could not risk the public taboo’s and possible kidnappings that would ensue were the god to get his hands on them. _And he would_ get his hands on them.  Because, _again_ , when he is bored – which happens to be _most of the time_ while he’s on Earth on account of the whole ‘no scheming’ clause set in place by the lovely Director- Loki will watch _anything_.

_Bachelorette?_

Yeah, no one in their right mind would sit through hours of that crap willingly- certainly not without wanting to neck themselves afterwards- unless they were completely and utterly desperate for entertainment. 

Not that Loki is what one would call ‘right of mind’- Tony supposes that’s what separates him from the regular television viewer. Loki is smart and twisted and most importantly, a trickster. He doesn’t do anything by halves- but extremes. So, it only makes sense that his sense of humour wouldn’t be any different. 

You see, Loki’s television inspired pranks are, _to put it simply_ , his own misguided version of a “Midgardian” pop-culture reference- and, yeah, two guesses who he picked those up from…

 

 

_Clint._

No, really.

It was Clint.

 _All Clint_ …

All. Clint.

And a little bit Tony.

But mostly Clint.

But, pretty much Tony.

Okay, so Tony kinda likes that it was him.

He finds the idea of Loki picking up his habits kind of cute, _endearing_ \- in an insane sort of way. Tony smiles slightly as he glances over at the God by his side, taking in his intent expression. _Invader Zim. Yeah,_ he really does go to such great lengths to piss him off, and _fuck_ if that doesn’t give him the warm and fuzzies... 

_Maybe Loki’s not the only sadist in this partnership._

Tony’s mouth twists pensively, as he returns his eyes to the cartoon on screen, his mind reeling back to his conversation with Pepper and the growing niggling in his stomach. He needs to fix things with Loki, more than that, he _wants to_. He’d been avoiding the guy for the better part of a week. _A week_. It’s ridiculous. Since when did he start avoiding the serious issues? That isn’t like him. Nope. Not at all. He loves a good conversational love-in!  He is Tony Stark- Master of the D and M! 

Yep. Loved it.

Loved. It.

**_Pffffffft!_ **

Yeah, so he’s well aware that he’s jerking himself, but man, it’s just so awkward!

Tony frowns pathetically as he mulls over the situation again.

He really should just start talking, discussing things like normal couples. How hard can it be? Surely, _surely_ it's nothing Tony- _fucking_ -Stark can't handle. Of course not! Yeah, definitely...he can definitely...talk...

Or…

Tony smirks as he launches himself from the couch (prompting a glare from the man plaguing his thoughts) and makes his way to the kitchen.

Tony isn’t much of a cook- he’s rich, he doesn’t have to be- but even with his lack of culinary prowess, he can still make a half decent sandwich. 

Because what better way to say… _well,_ all that loaded, _emotional_ stuff he really _should_ be saying, than with two slices of bread slathered in crunchy peanut butter? 

That’s right, normal couples can go to hell. After all, what use do Tony and Loki have for normal, when they are anything but? Theirs wasn’t the stereotypical love story; there was no love at first site or even any attraction- that developed over time, after the hate had ebbed and the familiarisation began. Loki isn’t the easiest person to get along with…but Tony found, within their first four or so months of knowing each other that the God kind of grew on you. 

_Like a tumour._

And he’s a _malignant_ tumour too- spreads stealthily through your veins, seeps into your organs and wraps around your mind. Tony remembers the moment- years ago now- when he realised it was all too late, that he was too far gone- gasping for breath for the bastard had a hold on his heart. 

And, wow, didn’t that revelation hurt.

Tony sometimes wonders where he’d be if he'd noticed sooner, if he’d cut Loki out before he’d spread, whether he’d be with Pepper now, or someone else, but then he remembers who he’s dealing with and knows that it would have made no difference. He’d still end up here. Perhaps it would have been a year from now, maybe two, but there is no doubt in his mind that the God would have taken him eventually.

Strange that (cancer talk aside) he now finds himself in the healthiest relationship of his life, and atypical or not, he’s happy where they are. So what if their partnership has a level of toxicity about it, whose doesn’t? They are making it work.

Okay, so the kid thing was a bit of a surprise. One that Tony could never have prepared himself for. And, yes, he would have said ‘no’ had anyone asked him at the start of last week if fatherhood was in the cards for him. But now, as he slaps a lovingly (see: hastily) made peanut butter sandwich onto a small white plate, he doesn’t mind the idea of a dark haired child with bright, mischievous eyes rattling around in his tower- in his life. Cause he’d (she’d) be theirs. 

And let’s face it, Tony’s pretty fond of himself- and Loki, well, he grows on you, so this kid…This kid, he’d _(she’d)_ have to be alright.

_It will be alright._

Feeling slightly more confident, Tony wanders back into the lounge room- plate in hand- as he approaches the back of the couch where Loki is still sitting. He smiles smugly as he settles behind him, leaning down to wind an arm around his broad shoulders and presents the plate proudly under the God’s nose.

He watches as Loki eyes the sandwich bemusedly, quirking an eyebrow, before tilting his head back to look up at Tony. For a second, Tony isn’t sure how Loki will react, his steely gaze giving nothing away as he considers accepting the engineers peace offering (who is he kidding? It’s a bribe, and Loki knows it too). 

As the seconds tick by Tony begins to freak out, his confidence waning as he seriously considers retracting his offer. Thankfully though, just as he goes to remove his hand, he realises that there is no need. The beginnings of a smile has snaked its way onto Loki’s lips, and _oh_ , if the relief doesn’t have his knees almost buckling right there, and to say that that sentiment only intensifies when the God raises a hand to grasp the fabric of his t-shirt, dragging him down for his mouth to meets his own, well, that would be an understatement. 

They kiss hard and messy, and Tony nearly loses his hold on the plate in favour of gliding his hand over the skin of Loki’s throat, but before that can happen, Loki has pulled away, a sharp smirk upon his lips as he holds Tony’s face close to his own. They stare at each other lustily- the words, _the conversation_  all there. Their lips meet again, soft and short, once, twice and then the God’s expression changes to something aloof and regal. 

Tony regards him with narrowed eyes, as the God’s lips purse.

“Stark,” his voice is blunt, yet strangely innocent as he gazes up at Tony, “I do hope you intend to remove those crusts.”

Tony huffs softly as he shakes his head, pulling the plate back to his chest, “Yes, dear.”

The God's smirk widens as he rewards Tony with a patronising pat to the cheek- and damn, if Tony's knees don't weaken a little at that too.

_Cancerous, unyielding bastard indeed._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys, and to all those who leave Kudos and Reviews! I really appreciate the support!  
> I've got to give a bit of a shout out to the wonderful Tim Minchin and his song "You Grew on me" for inspiring quite a chunk of this chapter. If you haven't heard the song, it is lovely and hilarious and clever - as is the man himself! Youtube him now!!  
> Also just want to wish you all a Happy Easter! Have a safe holiday guys! 
> 
> xo


	5. The "Perks" of Pregnancy: Morning Sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, So it's been ages since my last update, but finally here it is! And it's a long one! To be honest I don't know how it got this long considering the subject matter, but anyway, hope you enjoy.

 

 

 

 

It’s funny how after having the all-important conversation- and they _did_ have the all-important conversation…

Really, they did.

Or at least, they had a variation of one…

_Uhh..._

Let’s put it this way, they covered _the basics,_ i.e., they’ll keep the kid- despite all manner of doubts, Loki would NOT, under any circumstances, be referred to as Mother, and of course, the unanimous agreement to pass the child along to Steve and/or Pepper whenever the situation calls for the feminine touch.

Oh, and they _wouldn’t_ be informing the other Avengers or Nick- _I-gotta-be-the-first-to-know_ \- Fury until it is absolutely necessary. That is, when Loki has become so big that his stomach can no longer be hidden behind baggy sweatshirts, blankets, pillows, or strategically placed pot plants. _Second trimester,_ Tony reckons- because, _come on_ , he watches T.V! Actors hide the fact that they’re pregnant all the time. It’s just a matter of wardrobe and prop placement. Nothing to it.

_But, anyway, back on topic._

_It’s funny_ how after having the all-important conversation (which they totally had) how quickly the ball started rolling- or _roiling_ as bad puns would have it- for not three days after Loki had accepted Tony’s bribery sandwich, the dreaded morning sickness (or in Loki’s case, morning, afternoon and night sickness) kicked in- and what a horrible shock it was to the both of them.

Vomiting, as it turned out, was an almost foreign concept to the God of Chaos – which Tony still thinks is _weird as hell_ considering how (other) worldly the guy is- but mind-fuckery aside, Tony has never seen Loki look quite so confused as he did the night he walked in on him, sprawled across the bathroom floor, with his head slung over the toilet bowl.

Tony was barely awake at the time, his cock pulled half out of his pants in preparation for a late night/early morning leak, and his eyes in weary slits. Not surprisingly, he’d all but stumbled into the bathroom, startling the God on the floor and he himself because, _what the fuck_ , there was a god on the floor! What could be right about that?

Tony remembers how quickly Loki’s gaze turned to him, his green eyes wide and glassy and his brows drawn together in utter bewilderment. At first Tony had attributed the trickster’s confusion to his impromptu entrance, but as the moments dragged on and the engineer became more aware, he realised there was a lot more to it.

Tony soon learnt that Loki _doesn’t vomit_ \- or he hadn’t in the God’s extensive memory. It made sense, he supposed. Deities shouldn’t get sick- injured yes, sick no… but still, Tony found himself questioning the truth in that logic. Asgardians (or Frost Giants, as it were) are a tough breed, sure, but they are not invincible. Even with their advanced immune systems, Tony doubts they are completely beyond contracting illnesses…After all, he’s witnessed both Thor and Loki looking more than a little worse for wear on more than one occasion, and isn’t seeing Loki heaving into the toilet proof enough? Not that he is technically sick per se…but it certainly dispels the claim of ‘Loki doesn’t vomit’.

Whatever- let the God keep his proud delusions.

Loki doesn’t vomit (HA!).

Yeah, well Tony doesn’t _do_ vomit.

Sure, _he’s vomited_ \- his long standing relationship with alcohol has more than made sure of that- but that doesn’t mean that if he had his way he wouldn’t banish the disgusting act from the realm of possibility all together. He just doesn’t _do_ it- the vile smell, the acrid taste, even the sight of it makes him cringe…and that goes for other people too. In fact, seeing other people is actually _worse_ , because then it isn’t even _his_ gross, rejected, bodily fluid…it’s theirs.

And something tells him it’s that particular sentiment that landed him in his current predicament.

See, while Tony acted the perfect, sympathetic boyfriend that first night- sitting beside his prideful partner, gently rubbing his back and holding his hair away from his face- his vomit tolerance ended there. In the days since, Loki has practically taken up residence in the bathroom, due in part to his constant need to pee, but more apparently, to his inability to keep anything in his stomach for more than twenty minutes.

Needless to say, Tony took to using the bathroom down the hall.

It wasn’t that he was being deliberately insensitive- of course not. After all, he always made sure to ask Loki how he was (“You, okay in there, Babe?”) and offer his assistance *albeit quietly* (Do you need me to come in- No? Oh okay), before sashaying down to his lab, or maximising the volume in his headphones.

Loki didn’t seem to mind.

That is… _until he did_.

Tony learnt quickly that there are many things to be said about Loki- because let’s face it, he’s a real fucking complicated dude. What with that haywire brain of his and all those pent up conflicting feels that just boil and fester in the darkest recesses of his mind, or even worse yet, that explode forth in bouts of unforeseeable crazy, ripping away all sense of logic or reality, leaving him nothing but a cruel depiction of raw, bloody emotions, both frightening, and innocent all at once.

Loki can be _anything._

Loki can be _everything._

But at this moment, the only words Tony can think to describe the god, _his_ god, _his everything,_ are those that are markedly less poetic. Rather, they venture along the lines of ‘spiteful, voodoo loving, prick’.  

Actually, there are no lines.

Loki is a spiteful, voodoo loving, prick!

Because seriously, people who are supposed to L—like, really, really like you (hell they’ve been together for _years,_ he should damn well L—like really, really adore him by now, but anyway), they aren’t meant to cause you to feel so utterly, and unnaturally _sick_.  

He gets it- really; he should have _expected it_ from Loki. After all, the trickster would only put up with Tony acting like a douche bag for so long. Tony had hoped he would get away with it for a little while longer, but oh well, you can’t win them all.

He just wishes that Loki didn’t have to be such a dick about it.

Groaning miserably, Tony nuzzles further into his pillow. He can hear movement in the adjoining bathroom; a dull thud (knees hitting tiles?) and his stomach rolls violently. He curls into himself as the feeling races into his throat, stewing there for a few sickening seconds before taking that final lurch, leaping- up-up- and then, like clockwork, the sound of retching spills into the room. Only the sound isn’t coming from him. It’s coming from Loki.

Because for Tony, it’s all just an illusion- a hormonal God’s way of forcing him to experience sympathy pains. _Fucking sympathy pains._

_The prick!_

Tony groans again as he thrashes about in the bed, his gaze moving to the door of the bathroom as his stomach continues to curdle.

“JARVIS, blinds.”

“Very good, Sir.” The AI replies in that thick accented voice of his, “It is currently 9:47am and Captain Rogers is serving breakfast in the communal kitchen, should you and Mr Laufeyson choose to partake.”

Tony scoffs, “Yeah, thanks Jay- we’ll see if “his highness” feels up to eating.”

“I wish you good luck, Sir, and may I advise that Mr Laufeyson’s mood is regrettably low this morning and suggest that you refrain from using your usual… _abrasive charm_.”

_“Great.”_

Sighing dismally, Tony pushes himself from the bed, sitting at its edge for a time as his stomach (Loki’s stomach?) continues to roll. The sound of the taps running tells him that, at least, Loki has finished blowing chunks, but that doesn’t mean Tony isn’t prepared to tiptoe over eggshells.

In truth, if he weren’t attempting to win the trickster over in the hopes that he’d remove whatever god-awful spell he cast, he would probably skip checking in on Loki all together. The guy’s been a mess for days, and Tony isn’t sure how to deal with him. In the past week or so, Loki has instated this weird thing where he goes through the motions (the morning sickness, the trips to the bathroom, the sensitivity to scents and tastes) all the while ignoring the fact that _he’s actually pregnant,_ like he’s blocked it from his mind all together.

Tony can see the appeal in it- the ignorance. But come on, it can’t be healthy, and he’s got to admit, it has him a little worried. Steeling himself, Tony stands from the bed and heads for the bathroom.

Loki is slumped over the sink when he enters, his forearms bracketing the basin and his forehead pressed to the neck of the spout. He looks like shit, there’s no other word for it, and Tony has to wonder how long he’s been holing himself up in here before the engineer had even woken.

_And doesn’t that make me look like a dick?_

Frowning awkwardly, Tony moves up behind the God and presses (what he hopes is) a comforting hand to the small of his back. “Mornin’, Sunshine.” he murmurs quietly, trying his best to sound sympathetic. “Not feeling so hot?”

_Uhh- no._

The words are barely out of his mouth and already he thinks he’s going to regret them.

 _And he does_ , for not a moment later the trickster is drawing away with an incredulous shake of his head. “You know exactly how I feel, Stark.”

 _Shit_ , _he really does fail at sympathy._

Sighing exasperatedly, Tony spins around to follow the God, “Well…yeah. But I thought I’d try the whole, you know…” he makes a vague gesture with his hands, “being sensitive thing…”

“ _Sensitive._ ” Loki scoffs, drying his hands on Tony’s towel before turning back to the engineer himself.

Tony just shrugs mildly, “Correct me if I’m wrong here, but isn’t that the point of all this hocus-pocus, sympathy pains stuff?”

Loki puffs out what _could be_ a laugh and reguards him with bitter amusement, his brow arching as he leans regally against the stainless steel towel rack. “Oh, please do not mistake, the reason you are feeling as you are _is spite_ , nothing else.”

Tony pouts and folds his arms over his chest, attempting to appear unaffected by the revelation but only succeeding in looking childish. “Okay…so, that was going to be my second guess _, obviously_.”

Loki makes a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat but doesn’t argue, choosing instead to tilt his head against the wall, and close his eyes. He looks ragged, his hair mused, and curling around his cheekbones, his skin gleaming with a thin layer of sweat. It’s as though he is literally _melting_ from exhaustion and Tony gets the feeling that he has been in here for hours, likely most of the night. Suddenly Tony regrets taking those two sleeping tablets before bed.

Sighing awkwardly, because god knows the lull has stretched on too long already, the engineer runs a hand through his hair and breeches the silence, “So, uhh…should I be expecting more of these spite induced pregnancy perks?” He asks lightly, not overly confident in what he’s saying. “Cravings, perhaps? Mood swings, swollen ankles? Should I be reaching for the stretchy pants? Cause I gotta tell you Lo’, I don’t think they’ll look any good on me.”

Loki opens his eyes to shoot him a weary look, apparently having been rather content in their shared silence.  

Yeah, well, Tony wasn’t, so he’s going to have to deal.

“Not saying, I wouldn’t make it work, mind you- I’ve often considered trading my six pack for a keg, but the time just didn’t feel right, ya’ know? I guess what I’m saying is, I get this whole sympathy pains shtick, I do…but don’t you think you’re taking it a little too far?”

The trickster tilts his head thoughtfully, his dark eyes becoming clearer, more focused and more like himself, “To the contrary,” he proclaims suddenly, pushing off the towel rack and moving closer to Tony, “I feel that I have been considerably lenient in my…” He flicks his wrist and swirls his fingers as if to conjure the word from the air, “ _pursuits_. Tell me, how _would you_ feel about an aversion to alcohol?”

Tony’s eyes widen and he feels his stomach drop, which, he’s got to say, is a terrible feeling when combined with Loki’s left over nausea. “You wouldn’t.”

The God doesn’t say anything as he walks calmly over to the basin to stand beside Tony.

“Now there’s no need to do anything… _drastic,_ babe.” he returns carefully as he stares up at the god, “You’ve never seen me sober…well, you’ve seen me ‘sober’, but not _sober-sober_ \- It’ll be a disaster! It’ll be chaos! Mass rioting in the streets, car jacking’s, unexplained explosions- “

Loki smiles tightly, “Anthony, _darling,_ you do remember who you are talking to?”

He pauses, mouth open mid-rant. _Fuck, God of Mischief. Right._ “Just…Just do me a solid here…okay?” he moves closer to the God, wagging an authoritative finger in his pale face, “No takey Tony’s alcohol.”

Loki just levels him with a bored expression and slaps the offending hand away, his brows furrowing in a look of raw annoyance… _well,_ annoyance or…?

Tony frowns, only now noticing the god’s strange mannerisms- the way he’s inclined his body away from Tony’s, a hand raised to cup his throat. He appears more pissed off than ill, but as Tony’s own stomach stirs, he knows their ‘light argument’ is over, the formation of witticisms near impossible with the sudden onslaught of nausea…

Tony would be relieved if he weren’t suddenly feeling so goddamn sick. Because as it stands, he’s having enough trouble reminding himself that this is merely a _reflection of Loki_ \- and no, he isn’t, going to lose his guts on the bathroom floor.

Tony’s eyes widen as his mind kicks into gear, his arms immediately launching out to wrap around Loki, intending to usher the god to the toilet. He’s stopped, however, by a weak hand grasping his shoulder and a small shake of the trickster’s dark head. “No?” he challenges sceptically, pulling away an inch or two to look up into his face. His green eyes are glassy and tense when they meet his, tired and sullen. Tony feels his breath hitch, and he knows that buried somewhere beneath all Loki’s nausea, his own stomach is flipping in concern. He is at a loss and he hates it. Hates being useless. He wonders if they are being selfish not telling the others (knows they are), they should at least tell Bruce- someone who knows _something_ about what’s going on…

Surely…

“Maybe we shoul-”, Tony’s words die in his throat as Loki all but deflates against him, his long arms wrapping around his shoulders and waist, and a sweat slick forehead drops against his shoulder. He can feel Loki’s breaths puff against his neck, and Tony realises then that the trickster was not lying when he said he’d been lenient. No, it is obvious now that these past few days (so filled with Tony’s complaining) he had only been feeling a small fraction of the illness Loki’s been enduring.

_Fuck. I'm a dick!_

Sliding his hand into Loki’s hair, Tony folds himself around the other man, pulling him closer. He’s been faced with Loki’s vulnerable side a few times over the past three weeks, which is strange considering Tony doubted he even had one before knocking the guy up, but still, despite all this recent exposure, he really doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it. It makes him feel funny to see Loki like this, like suddenly he wants to shelter him from the world. He’d never felt that before (not for Loki at any rate), it’s like he reverts back to his teenage years, when he felt the need to beat the living shit out of the guy bullying his pretty, blonde girlfriend.

Not that he wants to beat the…because that would be…well, that would be counterproductive if nothing else, but anyway, the protectiveness- the protectiveness is the same.

_And that…that has to be pretty normal, right?_

It means he cares.

He only wishes he knew how to handle it better, because maybe then he wouldn’t always resort to…

“You know,” the engineer speaks up softly, raising his head so his lips can brush the taller man’s ear, “If I didn’t know that you’d just spent the last few hours blowing chunks, I’m almost ninety-eight precent positive that I’d be distracting you in a sexy way right now.”

.. _That._ He wouldn’t resort to _that._

Shit, he’s done it again, hasn’t he?

God, he sucks at this.

Why can’t he just stay quiet?

Loki’s breath puffs hotly against his neck. The ghost of a laugh. _A laugh_ , he can feel it, the cool lips curling against his skin, it’s unmistakable, and _fuck_ , Tony thinks, _could I have been wrong?_

Could his insensitive, sleazy _wrong_ way, actually be the right way?

He feels Loki’s hand slide languidly down his body, stopping briefly to paw at his ass before moving southward towards his thigh. Tony smirks, the unease in his mind (in his stomach?) all but forgotten as he chuckles, “I’ll just grab your toothbrush, shall I?”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

“…but we’ve fought these machines before, they don’t go down that easily.”

Thor nods in agreement, “Mayhap the Doctor Doom seeks a distraction?”

“Hmm,” Tony reguards the other two men seated at the table, his fork tapping idly as he mulls over Thor’s suggestion. “Yeah, I’m not so sure. It felt like an elaborate road test to me. The bots couldn’t have been more than prototypes.”

Rogers quirks a brow as he takes his plate and rises from the table, “You think Doom’s using us to test his inventions?”

“More than likely,” Tony shrugs, shovelling another forkful of eggs into his mouth. By the time he’d finished with Loki, (well, finished making out with Loki- he is still feeling too ill for much else) breakfast was well and truly over, and he was stuck with reheating leftovers and conversing with the linger-ers (A.K.A Thor and Steve). It isn’t all bad, though the toast is soggy and the bacon far too chewy, but he is determined to get something in his stomach while _Loki’s_ is seemingly more settled.

“And this does not concern you, Man of Iron?”

Tony shrugs again, already bored of the conversation. They’d been grilled already by Fury, they need to let it go. “Ehh, the way I see it, this just means we’ve got ourselves a little time off while Vic tweaks his killer robots. I mean, so the things went down easier than usual? Yay for us! Why punch a gift horse in the mouth, right?”

_“Look.”_

Three sets of eyes turn to see Loki framed in the doorway, hair wet around his shoulders and decked out in a black shirt and a pair of faded skinny jeans, “You do not _look_ a gift horse in the mouth.”

It takes a second for Tony’s brain to catch up with him, rather distracted by the God movements as he comes to stand between him and Thor “Yeah, well, whatever.”

Loki just smirks and drops a patronizing kiss to the top of the engineer's head, before settling into the chair beside him.

 “Good Morning, Brother!” Thor exclaims, as soon as Loki takes his seat. The greeting prompts no more than a forced smile and an eye roll from the other God, and Tony can't help but feel sorry for the big guy. Thor is probably ecstatic that Loki deigned to share the table with him, let alone sit beside him. The poor bastard.   

Tony wonders if they will ever be how they were before Loki’s fall, before everything changed and turned to shit. It’s unlikely, but the tension between them _has_ eased somewhat over the past two years, and although Thor’s unnatural interest in his adoptive brother still grates tirelessly on Loki’s nerves, for the most part, Loki attempts to reign in his anger, opting for indifference over outright hate.

In fact, sometimes- once in a blue moon- Tony catches the two having civil conversations, muttering quietly to each other or sharing a look that says more than words ever could, acting as brothers as if the year’s transgressions never occurred at all. It’s a strange sight to behold, there’s no disputing that, but overall it’s not a bad one. Because, there is hope in those moments, and Tony doesn’t doubt that it’s that hope which keeps Thor going.

 “You have risen late this day,” The Thunderer’s voice cuts in to his thoughts, curious and edged with concern. He glances between the brothers, catching Loki’s withering gaze before moving back to Thor. He’s watching Loki intently, and it is not difficult to see why.

The shower has brought a slight flush to the Trickster’s skin, making him appear feverish and sallow, the rise in colour only managing to make the dark circles hanging beneath his eyes appear darker and all the more harrowing. He looks sick. And Thor damn well knows it. “Brother, are yo-“

“You know, he’s right! You’re getting pretty sloppy there, Bambi!” Tony cuts in quickly, hoping to thwart Thor’s questions. “What is it, eleven-thirty?  You really ought to get to bed earlier. You know, early to bed, early to rise or whatever. Want some breakfast? We've got bacon, we've got eggs, toast, cereal…We've got” he pauses as he looks at the fruit bowl sitting on the kitchen counter, practically teeming with strange looking spiky things, “Err…some kind of fruit?”

Loki shoots him an exasperated, if not slightly thankful look before answering simply with “Tea.”

Tony nods, shooting a quick glance at Thor to see that _yeah,_ he’s looking at him strangely, before setting his sights on the suspiciously quiet soldier. “Tea? Yeah, we can do that. Right, Steve?”

The soldier straightens from his arranging of the dishwasher, and spins to face Tony. His face all pinched as if he’d been deep in thought, and only now is he realising that life has gone on without him. _Honestly, Stevie shouldn’t you be used to that by now. Ouch._

Tony smiles brightly and points a thumb at the dark-haired god beside him, “Tea?”

Steve shakes his head a little to dispel the last of his thoughts, before finally attempting to work out what is being asked of him. He gets there in the end, and for a minute he looks like he’s going to protest, tell them to stick it where the sun don’t shine, that they can make their own damn tea, that he’s not their slave, but after seeing the expectant looks on both Loki and Tony’s faces his expression falters, he sighs and turns towards the kettle. “It’s milk and two, isn’t it?”

Loki nods, “Yes, thank you.”

Steve’s acting annoyed- _acting_ , because Tony has this theory that Steve secretly gets off on this stuff- being the mother of the group, everyone’s little caretaker. Why else would he be so obsessed with cooking and hygiene?

Tony smiles slightly as he watches the soldier mull about the kitchen, fishing a tea cup from the cupboard and a teaspoon from the draw. He really has become fond of the guy, despite how much he gives him a hard time.

“Thanks, Cap.” Tony winks as he places the tea cup in front of Loki (who nods his appreciation with a small smile of his own) and retakes his place at the table. He is looking thoughtful again, and Tony hopes to hell he isn’t going to bring up Doom for the fifth time this morning.

Pushing his now empty plate to the side, Tony reclines in his chair with a satisfied sigh. He spends a good few minutes watching Thor as he shovels dry fruitloops into his mouth, crunching the cereal loudly and barely swallowing before tossing in another large handful. It is amusing, if not entirely disgusting.  Loki, for his part, is ignoring the Thunder God’s mannerless chomping at all costs, instead focusing his attention on the tea in his hand. He can tell the trickster is uncomfortable, the curl to his lips and crinkling of his nose is fair testament to that, but considering his stomach is still rather settled and the likelihood of a rapid dash to the bathroom is considerably low, Tony can’t seem to figure out what has the God looking so unimpressed.

Tony frowns curiously as he takes in the man beside him. The tea cup has been set aside on the table, abandoned in lieu of Loki’s frustration.

“Ahh, Lo’?”

The other man turns to him, his green eyes narrowed- suspicious- and then suddenly he’s right _there_. Tony’s breath catches as the tip of Loki’s nose grazes the side of his neck, breathing him in with a strange intensity.

Tony laughs as he shrugs the God off, “What the hell, Loki?”

“Can you not…” The God’s voice trails off as he sniffs randomly at the air, his brows drawing together in confusion.

Two more sets of eyes are locked on Loki now, Thor pausing mid-chew, and the Captain looking more alert than he has all morning.

“Brother, what is wrong?” Thor reaches for Loki, one large hand moving to grasp the thinner man’s forearm, but Loki is already up, leaning across the table, eyes focused solely on Steve.

The God of Mischief sniffs loudly, nose scrunching and lip arching in disgust. Tony can even feel his stomach begin to churn. _The smell._

“Honestly, Rogers!” The God erupts exasperatedly, causing the Captain’s eyes to widen, as he veers in close, “Do you spray on that cheap perfume, or just go ahead and bathe yourself in it?”

…

 _Ahhh,_ Tony beats out a laugh and slings an arm around Loki's shoulders (poor, poor mortified Rogers), _the wonderful‘perks’ of pregnancy._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I totally just wrote at least 3000 words about vomiting. Good stuff. Ackk, I promise next chapter will be a lot more pleasant, *wink wink nudge nudge*. Anyway Thanks again for reading, reviewing and leaving Kudos! Love yas!


	6. Honk If You're Horney/Sleepy Saturdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Loki spend a day in bed, and Tony takes the opportunity to discuss things like a big boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, reviewing, leaving kudos! Sorry it's taken so long, it really wasn't cooperating.  
> This chapter is a bit smutty/fluffy. Though the smutt is only brief, I'm considering writing a proper scene a little further down the line. But blaa, don't really know how I feel about the chapter as a whole, but whatever, I'm ready to move on!

 

 

He is drifting, pleasantly drifting in that indescribable place between wakefulness and asleep. He is vaguely aware of the mattress dipping to his right, the movement jostling him slightly- reminding him of the satisfying ache throughout his body and the looseness of his limbs. He can feel a cool weight settle against his back, lips against his neck, hands skimming his side, his waist, encircling, pulling him closer. He smiles sleepily as he nuzzles further into his pillow, body relaxed and-

“Holy fuck, Loki!” His eyes spring open, and he thrashes against the other man, “Out! Out! You bastard, get out!”

Loki chuckles as he withdraws slowly, pausing briefly before surging back in “Now, Stark.” 

Tony gasps, “Fuck! You’re fucking insane!”

The trickster’s hands are everywhere now, gliding over his chest, his thighs, before finally settling on his hips, grasping them firmly, and raising his lower half to meet with his. The angle is better, Loki moves deeper, and while Tony is beyond cranky and his mind still stubbornly clinging to last vestiges of sleep, he has to admit he’s warming to the act, his cock already hardening and arching toward his stomach.

He can feel Loki’s breath puff against the back of his neck, hear his sharp pants, “I know you—can do better—Stark.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony grunts as Loki’s hips meet his cheeks, persistent and purposeful, rough and unrelenting, “a—a little warning might be nice.” 

Thank god he was still stretched from their earlier exploits otherwise Tony can’t imagine how painful this would be. Loki is apparently pretty determined to make this as fast and as rough as possible, which is all well and good because to be honest, Tony doubts he’s going to last very long with the way the God’s cock continues to rap against his prostate. Loki is shifting behind him, his knees nudging Tony’s further apart, while his hands splay over his ass to spread him wider. It feels like being split in two, the strain of his muscles and the overwhelming jolts of pleasure tearing him apart. 

He can feel himself nearing the edge and automatically his hand glides down to grasp his neglected organ, running his thumb gently over the tip- so slick with pre-cum- before wrapping his fingers around his needy shaft. He can hear Loki moan behind him, and his hand begins to move of its own accord, sliding roughly over his cock in time with the God’s sharp thrusts. 

“ _Tony!_ ” Loki growls against his neck, teeth sinking into tender flesh as his movements become more frantic. The engineer can only respond in kind, their previous rhythm all but forgotten as he bucks up against the man above him, his hand working fast on his cock and the muscles of his stomach becoming tight. 

“Fuck, Loki!” Tony presses his face in his pillow as his body begins to convulse, his hands clenching the sheets below him in a white knuckled grip.

The God fucks him through his orgasm, snapping his hips ever faster as Tony spills his seed across his stomach and onto the mattress. It only takes a few more powerful thrusts for Loki to follow suit, the trickster’s teeth tightening around the skin of Tony’s shoulder as he rides out the spasms racking his frame. Tony smiles when the trickster finally collapses against him, face buried in his neck and heart beating rapidly against his back. 

Tony will be limping tomorrow, but he’s comfortable and he’s satisfied and he really can’t bring himself to care. Hell, maybe if things keep going the way they are, Tony will have an excuse to buy himself that cane. He’d look pretty damn pimp with a cane. 

A cane…

A cane and a top hat…

Maybe a chocolate river…

Oompa Loompas…

What are they anyway- Oompa Loompas? Are they a distant relation of Dwarves? Garden gnomes?

 _Roald Dahl_ \- that guy- _that guy_ must have been on crack. How else wou-

Tony’s eyes snap open as Loki slowly withdraws, to settle on the mattress beside him. He must have been dozing, he realises foggily, and Loki, for all his previous gusto, appears to be doing much the same, his green eyes closed and face relaxed. Tony watches him for a moment, admiring the flush of his skin and the faint bruises lining his throat- a reminder of Tony’s previous efforts. They’ll be gone by morning, but it doesn't matter, for now they are perfect.

Leaning in, Tony presses his mouth to Loki’s, kissing him softly and running his hand gently through his hair. He smiles slightly when the God kisses him back, lazy and barely there. Tony can feel him falling, the kiss teetering off as Loki’s breathing evens out and he drops off to sleep. There’s a good chance the God won’t remember this encounter at all in the morning- chalking it up to be an overly vivid dream. Hell, Tony probably wouldn’t either had Loki waited a little longer before pulling out. Tony stays close for a while, playing idly with the dark strands of hair as he watches Loki’s sleeping features.  Tony’s seen him like this a lot lately, pregnancy apparently having granted him the ability to fall asleep at a moment’s notice. That and a few other ‘choice’ things.

JARVIS had warned him that Loki may experience a change in libido. Tony, understandably, assumed that would mean a **_de_** crease, you know, considering the God is still suffering from morning sickness every other day, but what he got…well.

Loki has his good days- he’ll have his nausea in check, he’ll put away a decent meal, get a good eight hours sleep…and wake up horney as fuck!

Tony likes Loki’s good days- god he does- but that doesn’t mean they don’t _scare the shit out of him_.

Tony has always thought it amusing that despite his elegance, his grace and his overall princely-ness, Loki is an unabashed horn-dog when in bed.  Tony puts it down to his wayward, intricate, broken mind. Basically he puts it down to his _crazy_. Because let’s face it, crazies are always amazing in the sack- and Loki- he takes the cake in that particular area. So when Loki’s already _insane_ sex drive decided to go on the up and up, Tony found himself feeling more than a little apprehensive. 

Because how could there be more? 

How could he survive more?

But after enduring a few of Loki’s good days (during which his thoughts ranged from suicidal to blissful ramblings of worship), Tony realised that it really doesn’t matter. He can handle being used (sometimes abused?) because at least then he isn’t useless. He’s giving Loki something _he needs_ , even if it is just a hole to put his dick in, or a dick to _impale himself on._ It’s something. And he’ll continue giving him _something,_ until he can work out how to give him _everything_. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Bambi?”

The god lies with his dark head resting on Tony’s bare chest, his nails drumming a soft rhythm on the surface of the arc reactor.

“Hey, Bambi?”

The tapping becomes louder, faster, more persistent. 

_“Oi, Bambi?”_

It’s becoming irritating.

Tony sighs, “Loki?”

The god halts his movements, and tilts his head back to smile innocently at Tony, “Yeeees?”

“Jerk,” Tony laughs, shaking his head at the wide-eyed expression, “I’m trying to be serious here!”

“Serious?” Loki raises an inquisitive brow, “Hmmm, and here I was thinking you obnoxious.”

Tony rolls his eyes “I mean it Lo’” he gripes, tugging sharply on a dark strand of the trickster’s hair. This conversation is going to be difficult enough as it is, let alone with Loki’s snark. 

He’d woken early this morning, the sun having barely risen, and Loki still dead to the world beside him, sheets tangled around his hips and a hand curled beneath his chin. Tony had that pleasant ‘after sex’ looseness to his limbs, coupled as it regularly is, with that not-so-pleasant ‘after sex’ ache to his ass. He was confused, at first, as to why he was awake in the first place- still feeling entirely too relaxed for true alertness- but when Loki shifted and five little ice-cubes grazed the inside of his leg, Tony suddenly had a pretty good idea.

Shirking back in horror, and retreating to his (warm) side of the bed, (he is always telling Loki to wear socks) Tony settled for appreciating the trickster from a safer distance, shifting on his side to better view the sleeping man- _watching him_ , in that completely non-creepy way that only a lover can. 

It was the pale skin that lured him at first, and then the curiosity, his eyes searching of their own accord, moving over smooth planes and muscle. Loki would be about seventeen weeks along now (approaching half way by human standards) but thanks to the kid’s mixed heritage, that means next to squat to Tony. Tony could only go by what he was seeing, and what he was seeing was… _subtle_ \- a slight change of shape, a rise to the place between his hipbones, an almost indiscernible softening of muscle. 

Loki is very conscious of that place when he’s awake. He does not like it to be acknowledged, or touched, as if it has become forbidden land to any and all questing fingers, including his own. Strangely this makes Tony feel both saddened and relieved- _saddened_ that they are both so tragically _incapable_ \- and _relieved_ because touching made it seem so real. 

And it was real, it _is_ real, and Tony found that the longer he lay there staring at _that place_ , the guiltier he began to feel. 

_The absentee father._

_The absentee husband._

Loki had come back having already made the decision to keep the child, and while Tony knows he will never go back on that decision, he can see the uncertainty in his eyes. Loki doubts himself, and Loki doubts Tony. And Tony…he doubts his ability to change that.

But in that moment, he decided that he’d be fucked if he wasn’t going to try.

He has to try.

“Look,” Tony ventures awkwardly, “I’ll be the first to admit that this stuff isn’t in my level of expertise. And maybe I haven’t handled things...”

Loki raises his head to look down at him sceptically, brow cocked and interest in his eyes.

The engineer huffs, “Yeah, okay, so I _definitely haven’t_ handled things as… _gracefully,_ ” Loki snorts, “ _as gracefully as I could have_ , but I just wan-”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Loki thrusts out a hand, and quickly draws himself into a sitting position. “I would like to be comfortable for this.” 

Tony rolls his eyes, “Really, Lo’, this is hard enou-“

“Uh-uh-uh!” Loki silences him with a hand.

He should have known the bastard would milk this. He probably lives for this stuff- watching Tony make a fool out of himself. In fact, he’d put money on it- bet his entire fortune. The jerk. 

With no other option, Tony waits impatiently for Loki to find a suitable position against the head board, jutting his lip out childishly when the god makes a point of smoothing the covers over his legs and folding his hands neatly in his lap- the picture of attentiveness. 

“Are you quite done?”

Loki smiles and sweeps a palm out invitingly. “Please.”

Tony rakes a hand through his hair, already losing his nerve and clueless as to where he’s going to go with this. He just wants Loki _to know_.  

“Okay, okay, so…” he fumbles for a second, glancing pointlessly around the room, before finally turning back to meet Loki’s gaze head on _._ “I guess, what I’m trying to say- and _yes,_ I’m well aware this is going pretty fucking shoddily, but you’re not helping being a smug asshat about it- _don’t argue, you are_ \- but fuck, I just… I need you to know that _I’m in this. All the way._ If there’s ever anything you need- I mean, not saying I _want_ to stand there and watch you regurgitate last night’s pizza- because man, I really don’t- but I’ll do it. _I’ll do it,_ if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need _. I’m in this_.”  

 _There._   He’s said it- all out in the open. Loki knows where he’s at, and Tony’s got some of that mushy stuff off his chest. What could be better?

“What?” Tony frowns, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The trickster laughs, his expression bemused as he shakes his head, “ _Stark_.”

“What?” he demands, his hands flying out in exasperation. The gesture causes Loki to sober slightly, his laughter teetering off and his face contorting into a look that is a few steps beyond patronising and a sorry inch below sympathetic. 

“Oh Stark,” the God drawls silkily, reaching over to pat the back of his hand, Tony retracts the appendage almost immediately and folds his arms over his chest, “I find it incredibly… _quaint_ , that you should think this changes anything.”

Tony grits his teeth, all his good intentions seeming so silly now, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He can see the delight swirling in the god’s green eyes, his head tilting in that curious way that makes him appear so much younger and yet, only serves to make Tony feel the child.   

“Tony, you must know that you behave as _I want you to_. You _have done_ for _years_. Do you really think I’d still be here if you did not give me what I need?”

Tony’s eyes narrow musingly, the implication of Loki’s words spinning in his mind, _what the hell?_ “I’m not sure if you’re giving me a compliment, or admitting to years of manipulation.” 

The god quirks a brow.

 “Can it not be both?” He answers presumptuously, his mouth curving up into a wry smile.

Tony wants to laugh. The nonsensical part of him- the one that gets off on Loki’s hard-biting, clever side- is doing a fine job of swallowing his unease, leaving him feeling fond and mushy and even a little turned on.

Still, never one to admit defeat, Tony attempts to harden his glare and hold on to his irritation. He manages for a few seconds, but before he can consider it a possible comeback, Loki hits him with a sly wink and has him crumbling. 

Tony laughs, because fuck it, why not? His chest feels lighter, relieved of some of the guilt which had been gripping him, Loki’s snarky reaction be damned. In fact—Tony flings himself closer to the god, his hand whipping out to grasp the side of his neck and clumsily drag him to the side. Loki lets out a small sound of surprise when the engineer’s lips find his throat, sucking loud smacking kisses upon his sensitive skin. 

Tony grins cheekily when he pulls away, nipping the other man’s jaw once more before settling back amongst his pillows.  Loki is looking at him with something resembling disgust, nose scrunched and eyes narrowed as he attempts to wipe the saliva from his skin with the corner of the bed sheet. Needless to say, Tony is sorely tempted to launch a full blown attack, splatter raspberries and hickies all over his chest and stomach just to see how he’d react.

 _Unfavourably_ , if the glare Loki’s sending him is anything to go by.

“Are you quite done?” Loki finally sneers, mocking Tony’s earlier words. 

Tony smiles smugly. “Quite.”

The god just rolls his eyes, not bothering to hide the underlying fondness in the gesture before tilting his head back against the headboard and closing his eyes. Tony takes that as case closed, and decides to leave Loki be for a while, instead leaning over the side of the bed to swipe up his discarded tablet. Pepper had been hounding him about some big board meeting next week, insisting that he at least look over the agenda before _‘waltzing in forty minutes late with sex hair and grease pants.’_ He guesses (knows) she’s right, but why does it have to be so boring? Couldn’t they spruce it up a bit? Throw in a few pictures?  Maybe write this week’s stock reports across some hot blonde’s chest? Hell, he’d settle for some strategically placed _LOL cats_. 

Perhaps he will make a motion at the next meeting. Either that or he’ll make a point of communicating his displeasure through various memes of _Grumpy Cat_.

“I am leaving tomorrow.”

Tony looks up, brows furrowing in confusion, “What?”

Loki sighs regretfully, but doesn’t raise his head nor open his eyes. “I have received word from a contact of mine, I am to leave tomorrow.”

Contact? What the hell is he talking about?

“You can’t be serious.” 

Loki straightens, “I was not asking your permission, Stark.”

Clenching his jaw, Tony tries to remain calm. The last thing he needs is a screaming match here, despite how much he’s itching for one. “Alright, fair enough- so I have no say, but let me ask you this…” he reaches out to take one of Loki’s hands, his eyes searching the god’s, “Do you really think it’s a good idea to be realm hopping right now, babe? You’re not exactly at the top of your game.”

Loki scoffs, “It is no more than an _errand_.”

“An errand?” Tony returns incredulously, “An errand is running down the street to get a carton of milk, or taking the neighbour’s cat to the dentist- Loki, you don’t _do_ errands!”

“Neither do you.” Loki quips dryly, appearing in no way perturbed by Tony’s rising hysteria.

“Yeah, well.” Tony splutters, “That’s not the point! The point is… _normal people errands_ don’t include intergalactic travel and the possibility of enemies maim and/or killing you!”

The god rolls his eyes, “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“ _Concerned_. I’m being _concerned_.” Tony corrects pointedly, “And I think I have every damn right to be, under the circumstances.”

Loki sighs, the sound almost contrite in its softness and Tony finds, as pathetic as it is, that his resolve is weakening upon hearing it. 

He groans inwardly, his mind supplying the universal whip crack.

He really is hopeless.

Remaining silent, Tony watches as Loki slides closer, the trickster’s nimble fingers reaching out to remove the tablet from his lap before dismissing it to the opposite side of the bed. “We have an agreement,” He explains patiently, curling into Tony’s side and resting his head on his shoulder, “Think of it as a business deal. I get something I want and, in return, I lend my services as a mage. It is an aboveboard exchange, nothing more.” 

Tony smiles affectionately as he wraps his arm around the god and buries a hand in his hair, “ _Aboveboard,_ ay? Why do I get the feeling you’re getting the better deal here?”

“That’s simple. I am,” the god replies smartly, “However, it is no fault of mine that the fool doesn’t know the value of what he trades.”

Tony laughs weakly, still incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of Loki conducting any kind of ‘business’ outside of Earth when he is not in the best condition to defend himself. “So how long is this so-called ‘errand’ going to take?” Tony questions grudgingly, resigned to the fact that the god is going whether he likes it or not.

“I hope to be back within a month.” Loki replies frankly, one of his hands moving over his chest in what Tony assumes is a tactical manner- meant to distract and pacify. Tony doesn’t call him on it, just nods and continues to fiddle with the dark strands of hair wrapped around his fingers, his mind kindly supplying images of all the things that could go wrong in four short (long?) weeks.

He’s never had to worry before- at least, not to the point where he’s sitting around awaiting the god’s return- but something tells him that after tomorrow, that’s all about to change. He wonders if it’s the increased risk of losing _Loki_ , or simply, that he has _more to lose_.

Is he concerned for the _child_?

Is _that_ why his feelings have taken such a dramatic turn? 

Or is he only concerned that the child will jeopardize _Loki_?

He has never experienced the unconditional love of a parent, doesn’t know the first thing about becoming a father. Hell, until he met Loki, he never knew what it meant to actually _be_ with someone in such an intimate sense. 

The fact is, Tony doesn’t love nonsensically. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight, or loving by obligation. When he was young, he made the mistake of loving his father, thinking it was compulsory, something that came with sharing a man’s blood, but the older he got the more he came to realise that his father held no such sentiments.  He was a creation to Howard Stark, an imperfect replica that would never quite live up to the real thing, he was a prodigy and a talking point, but never was he a son. 

Frowning thoughtfully, Tony glances down at the man curled over his chest. His eyes are closed, and breathing even, relaxed to the point that Tony suspects he’s fallen asleep.  He speaks anyway. 

“Do you-” he hesitates, feeling the slight movement in Loki’s shoulders, “Do you think you’ll love it?” he asks tentatively, and despite his previous state, the god’s eyes flutter open immediately.

He is frowning, his green eyes dull- weary. “I do not know.” Loki replies, void of emotion. 

Tony isn’t fooled, he knows that tone, knows it better than any. Gently, he gathers Loki to himself, moving his lips to the top of his head. “I think you will.” Tony whispers reassuringly, knowing in that moment, that he isn’t speaking solely to Loki. 

 

 

It’s a long time later when Tony is on the cusp of sleep, mind drifting once more, that he feels Loki shift over him, his soft mouth grazing the side of his neck, breath ghosting over skin, and three words, “I hope so.” 

 

 

 


	7. Rising to the Occasion: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Sorry about the huge wait on this chapter, I'm afraid I was trying to fit too much in it and it got a little away from me. So this chapter is...well it's pretty much smut. So if you don't like reading that sort of thing, maybe just read the start and then you'll be up to date for the next chapter (which will pretty much follow straight on from the end of this one). 
> 
> After the next chapter things should start picking up a little more...and we'll get to see more of the Avengers, but until then, enjoy the fluff!

 

 

He has never been the type to worry over punctuality. Lateness is in his nature- a charming quirk at which his friends both curse and shake their heads fondly. Debriefings, board meetings, swanky soirées, you can bet Tony Stark will arrive fashionably late.

But when it counts, you know, when lives are on the line, or world’s need saving, or even the not-so-occasional booty call, you can count on Tony to be right there on the dot. 

He’s got your back.

He turns up on time, all the time.

No way would he leave someone hanging.

Especially if that someone was someone he cared about. 

_And even more especially_ if he’d been absent for a number of weeks, and…say, he wasn’t in the best travelling condition upon departure…and like, he knew that the person waiting for him wasn’t very happy about the scenario in the first place… 

Nope, Tony wouldn’t do that.

And he’s damn well pissed that Loki apparently would.

But, Tony didn’t let it get to him, at least, not like it would normal people. No, he managed to keep his cool. He didn’t get worried to the point of complete mental break down and he definitely didn’t get banned from Pepper’s office on account of his sudden unbridled neediness. Why would he? That would be silly. He wasn’t needy, or worried, or hysterical- certainly not enough to fly out to New Mexico, bash on Jane Foster’s door, and demand Thor get his ass into space and hunt down his no-show of a little brother.

Seriously, he didn’t do that.

He _may have_ packed an overnight bag…so what? He never intended to _use_ it. He just…

Tony sighs as he stares at Loki’s loopy handwriting, his body suddenly relieved of two weeks’ worth of stress. 

Who was he kidding? One more day and he’d be half way to New Mexico.

It had been a long four weeks in Loki’s absence -really, it was- in fact, this month was so bloody long that somehow it was extended for another two weeks. 

That’s fourteen more days.

Loki had said he’d be back in a month, and here it is forty-four days later, and the god is only now making an appearance. That is, he arrived home at six-fifty this morning to find Tony passed out on the couch in his lab and apparently decided that littering his body with sticky notes was the most efficient way to alert him of his homecoming- or so states the note previously stuck to his forehead. The same note, to Tony’s great annoyance, also going on to instruct him to shower before coming to find him as Loki will not have him covered in grease. 

Tony rolls his eyes and makes a conscious decision to ignore Loki’s request as an act of punishment for his tardiness. 

Four weeks, bah! 

He really ought to take a quick roll under one of his cars (hell, why not all six) and get himself really good and filthy before presenting himself to his Highness, approach the god with open arms, pull him close and smear the black grease from his head to his toes.

Sighing again, Tony takes a moment to calm himself, his thoughts wandering idly as he plucks the yellow notes from his clothes and body. Most of them are blank, he notices, but some of them (the ones over his more interesting parts) have a few scrawled words stating “Property of the God of Mischief” or “Loki of Asgard was here”. He hates to admit it, because he is meant to be angry and all, but he’s vaguely amused by the post-its, especially when he pulls a note from the top of his pants suggesting he “ _rise_ to the occasion” and welcome his god home “ _properly_ ”. Yeah, the bastard knows just how to play him.

Deciding he’s held himself back long enough, Tony stands lazily from the couch, giving himself a quick brush over to remove any stubborn papers, before making his way to the elevator. He makes sure to graze his hands along any dirty surfaces or abandoned tools as he goes- because, come on, he has to get his own back somehow.

“So, JARVIS, where am I headed?” He asks the AI cheerily as he steps into the elevator, a small bubble of anticipation building in his stomach.

“Mr Laufeyson currently inhabits your private lounge. Is it safe to assume you will be joining him?”

Tony smiles saucily, “You know it.”

“Very good, Sir.”

The room is quiet when he enters, his gaze flickering briefly to the nature documentary muted on the television before zoning in on the figure curled up on the lounge. The god sits with his back propped against the arm rest, an ancient-looking book balanced in one hand, and a blanket spread over his long, outstretched legs. He raises his head when he hears Tony’s approach, a small smile curling at his lips.

Tony stops a short distance from the lounge and folds his arms over his chest. “Well, well, look who it is, oh sweet _Moon of my Life_ , finally deciding to grace me with his presence.”

Loki rolls his eyes coolly, and turns back to the pages of his book. “You know your guilt-tripping has no effect on me, Stark.”

Tony gasps in indignation, a calming hand pressed to his chest as he stomps closer to the lounge, “ _Stark?_ Really? Loki, have we not been over this?”

The god glances up at him blankly, the deadpan expression causing Tony to release a melodramatic sigh. “When I refer to _you_ as _The Moon of my Life_ , _you_ have to call _me_ your Sun and your Stars. It’s a thing! And you said you’d do it if I told you about Clint and the Wall Street tranny! Which I did! I told you, so you have to pay up.”

Loki smirks in a way that makes Tony feel both insane and entirely giddy, his dark head tilting to one side as he reaches out to hook one pale finger into the engineer’s belt loop. Tony comes willingly, swinging his leg up to straddle the god’s thighs.  

“The deal was one sided,” the trickster argues mildly, sliding his book to the floor. “I was promised ammunition, prospects of bribery- you gave me a synopsis which skimped on the details. Utterly useless, the deal is void.”

Tony smiles widely, and leans down to mouth against the god’s lips, “A deal’s a deal, babe.”

“Are you sure,” Loki rolls his hips teasingly, “you want to talk about this now?”

_Fuck_ , Tony groans, his hips automatically grinding down in turn. “Well, you know, now…or later.”

Loki smirks wryly as he presses himself closer, the action causing warmth to pool in the pit of Tony’s stomach. 

Suddenly he feels those weeks of solitude rushing to the forefront, and all he wants to do is drown those memories out, to replace them with hands and mouths and sweat drying on skin. 

He surges forward, his hand reaching out to cup a pale jaw and his lips immediately seeking their match.

Heat rises around them as their mouths move against each other, the fabric of Tony’s light t-shirt almost stifling in his growing arousal. His hands tug at layers of clothing- Loki’s- because through the fog of his mind he reasons that his own discomfort will be tempered by divesting the god of his. He pushes at the hem roughly, his hands seeking skin as his tongue swirls within the god’s clever mouth. 

He can feel Loki’s hardening length press enticingly against his cheeks and the sensation causes Tony to break their kiss in favour of increasing the contact. 

He straightens slightly, rocking back against Loki’s erection, and coaxing a soft gasp from the trickster’s lips.

“I thought-“Loki pants as he runs his hands up the length of Tony’s thighs. “I thought I told you to shower before coming to see me.”

“And _I_ thought you’d be back in a month.” Tony throws back smarmily, as his hands fiddle with the hem of-

Wait a sec.

“This is my shirt!” Tony declares bemusedly, his eyes travelling over the faded ‘Pearl Jam’ logo spread across Loki’s chest, “You don’t wear my shirts!”

Loki’s grip tightens around Tony’s thighs and he looks away, the god’s expression becoming strangely closed off considering their current activities…

Sensing things are about to get touchy, Tony leans down to press his lips to the god’s throat, hoping to placate and distract as his hands move over his body. He tugs gently at the knitted fabric of the blanket beneath him, casually pushing it to the side as his mouth moves to suck at the curve of Loki’s jaw. Loki’s jaw has always been a hot spot for the god, a sure fire way to get him writhing, and his breath hitching in that delicious way that has Tony moaning like a horney teenager and pawing at the front of his jeans. Now, Loki’s breath _is_ hitching but Tony knows better than to think it’s from his oral prowess. Because, yeah, distraction is always a long shot with the God of Mischief, his mind just moves too damn fast and on too many different levels, and at the moment, it’s clear to Tony that it’s fixated on something else. 

Not that it surprises him.

Tony expected change.  He did.  It has been six weeks, it was inevitable. But when his hands skim across Loki’s abdomen, he realises he couldn’t have prepared. He pulls away with wide eyes, hands freezing for a moment, as his gaze rakes down Loki’s body. “Fuck, you’re…”

Loki sighs, and purposefully moves his hips, now attempting his own play of distraction, “I’d prefer if you didn’t make a fuss.”

Tony scoffs, his fingertips ghosting reverently over the new curve of Loki’s stomach, “Yeah, no, I’m gunna fuss. How can I not fuss? This is...”

Loki sighs again, his expression sour and increasingly uncomfortable. Tony admits, he feels a little guilty, pressing something that is so obviously hard for the god…but, shouldn’t he be allowed to be curious about this? It’s kind of a big thing, or at least, it’s a bigger thing than it was the last time he checked.

“Relax, ‘Lo.” He murmurs comfortingly, leaning down to press a brief kiss to the trickster’s forehead, before once again tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. “Come on,” 

The god obliges, albeit reluctantly, lifting himself up so Tony can tug the material over his head. He emerges from the fabric seconds later looking far bitchier than he had moments before. Tony puts it down to the displacement of his hair, and quickly reaches out to help push the wayward strands behind his ears as an act of good will. 

Loki’s glare darkens.

_Yeah, or ya know, or not._

But whatever, Tony can salvage this. 

Settling heavily against Loki’s crotch, Tony begins to move, setting a slow rhythm as he dips forward to capture the god’s lips. The kiss is soft, languid, and Loki’s reaction is instantaneous, his pale hands skimming up Tony’s thighs to grasp at his hips, pressing him closer as his tongue runs along the seam of Tony’s mouth. It takes less than a second for the kiss to escalate, (thank god) for mouths to open and breathing to quicken. Tony swallows Loki’s moans like he’s desperate for them, his body becoming increasingly hot as the friction builds between them, and Tony knows he needs to make something happen fast.

Breaking the kiss, Loki is quick to divest Tony of his t-shirt, throwing the fabric to the floor and arching his body into Tony’s. And man, if that doesn’t send him reeling. _“Fuck.”_

Loki groans and plants his hands on Tony’s shoulders, squeezing them firmly before proceeding to push him down his body. Tony laughs hotly at the god’s persistence, knowing full well what he wants but unwilling to give it to him just yet. Instead, he takes his time exploring Loki’s skin, his teeth and lips teasing the soft flesh of his chest as his hands slide down the back of his sweatpants and over the smooth curve of his ass purposefully ignoring the impressive organ straining against the front of his pants.

Tony’s focus begins to wain as Loki bucks up against him, his hands demandingly pushing him lower and causing Tony’s own erection to rut clumsily against the god’s thigh- but even through his haze, Tony forces himself to slow down and examine the noticeable changes in Loki’s body, his eyes raking appreciatively over new peaks and dips before realising that merely looking will never be enough. He drops his mouth to the white plane of Loki’s skin, his parted lips drifting lightly across the unusual swell of his stomach- and suddenly, Tony’s thoughts jerk back to many weeks ago, to fading hickies that would be gone by morning and he muses, that this is it. This is his mark. This growing curve, this taunt pale skin, he did this- and fuck, he will gladly admit that he can see himself becoming infatuated with it.

Loki on the other hand, judging by the way he’s stilled under his ministrations, will need a little convincing. _“Stark.”_

Tony smiles at the warning tone, “Babe, relax.”

Deciding for both their sakes that he’s teased the god long enough, Tony tugs the sweatpants from Loki’s hips and wriggles further down his body, Loki’s spidery fingers threading through his hair in encouragement, “If you…do not _move,_ Stark…”

Tony smirks up at the trickster, watching him through half-lowered lashes. The action in itself causes Loki to stir, his discomfort increasing ten-fold, and for all his teasing, Tony just wants to laugh, because no one can say Tony Stark isn’t king of the bedroom eyes. 

Tony’s smirk widens. 

_Well, bedroom eyes among other things._

In one swift move the self-proclaimed king has Loki gasping, his hips writhing and hands clawing in Tony’s hair. It is really kind of crazy the thrill Tony gets from having Loki’s god sized cock in his mouth, to be able to watch the dark haired man come undone, to writhe, to squirm, to moan, and just to know- _to know_ \- that he is the reason for it. And man, he’s so fucking hard.

Humming deep in his throat, Tony takes  Loki in further, his tongue sliding slowly across the underside of his shaft before pulling back to circle the swollen head. He can hear the god gasping above him, his hips jutting up and causing Tony to gag around the thick length of his cock. Groaning in protest, Tony wraps his hands around the god’s hips, controlling their movements and coaxing them into a tentative rhythm. Loki obliges, thankfully, allowing Tony to set the pace, and soon they are rocking in time with each other, the familiar sensations triggering something within Tony and _holy fucking Christ_ , he needs more.

Eagerly, Tony hollows his cheeks, giving one last hearty suck before making to draw away. Because there’s foreplay and then there’s foreplay, and Tony has had nothing but his right hand for the past six weeks and he’s feeling a mite selfish. But then again, so is Loki and the god makes that fact glaringly obvious when he clamps his hands around Tony’s scull and forces the man back down. 

_Rude bastard._

Tony growls, his fingernails digging harshly into the trickster’s hips as he jerks his head back in a clumsy attempt to extract himself. 

He knew it wouldn’t work.  

Loki laughs breathily from above him, curling his fingers around Tony’s short hair and using the wiry strands like a horse’s reins, hauling his face closer and thrusting into his open mouth.

He ‘allows’ it for a while, indulging the god for a few more minutes before deciding it’s time to change tactics. He can tell Loki is close, taste the pre-cum at his tip, feel the tremors shooting through his thighs, but fuck if he is going to let him release- not like this, not without being buried inside him. 

So, looking up at Loki with challenge in his eyes, Tony swirls his tongue enticingly, coaxes the breath from the man above him- soft, quick pants- and then…he bites down. 

_Hard._

The sound the trickster makes is deeply guttural, a sweet mix between pleasure and pain, and mischievously, Tony’s teeth sink harder. 

There’s a gasp, and a tightening of thighs and then, well...he really should have expected the kick to the stomach, prepared for it a little, maybe attempted to catch the foot, or swing to the side to avoid the thrashing appendage, but alas, no. And _fuck, it smarts_.

Crumbling back on his knees, Tony rubs at his abused kidney, rather keen on whining about it, but becoming distracted by the sight of the man spread out beneath him. Loki appears nonchalant on most accounts, with his eyes closed and his dark head tilted against the arm of the lounge, but his flushed skin and quietly heaving chest is more than a little debauched.

“S-Stark, you incur—rigible- bas-tard!” Loki laughs huskily, his words punctuated by the uneven puffs of his breath. Tony shudders, his groin twitching at the sound. 

“I thought you liked being bitten.” Tony teases, leaning forward to brace his elbows on either side of the god’s head, lips barely brushing the shell of his ear. 

Loki moans, arching his body into Tony’s and burying his face in his neck. Tony can feel the god’s mouth hot against his skin, knows the movement of his lips as they twist into a smirk, and for a moment, Tony has to hold his breath. “Stark?”

“Hmm?” Tony pulls away blearily to meet the God’s eyes, bright and green and suddenly glowing. It’s a familiar expression- one that Tony has missed a lot over the past _six_ (goddamn) weeks, or at least, he thinks he has.

It is actually becoming rather unnerving, all twisted and smug as he leans up to run his tongue over Tony’s bottom lip.

He knows when Loki is up to something and this…

“Stark,” the trickster repeats, pausing to graze his mouth over his cheek, “Don’t stretch me.”

…

_Holy shit_

He almost chokes, crumbles, cums right there (no, no, he’s definitely missed it). “You perfect bastard.”

Loki laughs, beautifully breathy as his hands pop the fly of Tony’s jeans. “A little something I prepared earlier.”

Tony’s mind goes crazy with images of Loki spread across the lounge, his pants around his ankles, and his fingers buried inside him, vigorously working his tight muscle, moaning, gasping, panting- _preparing_ himself. _For Tony_. For this.

 And things get a little blurry after that.

He vaguely recalls Loki’s tongue as it slid over his palm, coating it in a healthy layer of saliva before wrapping his limber fingers around the base of Tony’s cock. He remembers the way he groaned as he pumped him once, twice, three times, (five, ten, twenty?), god he doesn’t know, but when Loki wrapped his mile-long legs around his waist and directed him to his entrance, Tony knows he was more than ready.

“Fuck, ‘Lo,” he breathes hotly, his hips rocking obediently into Loki’s as he pulls him in tighter. He can feel the god’s body stretching around him and it takes all he has not to move too quickly, to give himself time to adjust before diving in ‘head’ first. But, damn, Loki is eager. 

The trickster’s body is all but writhing beneath him, his thighs hitching higher on Tony’s waist and lurching up to force him deeper. _“Tony…”_

Tony laughs at the warning in his voice, his dark eyes locking with Loki’s frustrated green ones as he dips his head to meet the god’s lips. It isn’t often that Loki shows any form of desperation, displays any real _unrestrained need_ , so when the trickster moans and raises a hand to lock Tony painfully in place, Tony can only conclude that the god’s libido is still jacked up on pregnancy hormones, and that perhaps it’s time he took pity.  

Parting his lips, Tony pushes his tongue into the god’s mouth, taking a moment to map the sweet depths and relish in the faint tang of peppermint and green tea. It has become almost a trademark- for Loki to taste of the beverage, and he swears that he does it on purpose knowing that Tony can no longer drink the stuff without becoming mildly aroused. In fact, Tony wouldn’t be surprised if he got off on it- the idea of Tony sitting at the breakfast table with a pot of earl grey and a raging hard-on, the look on Steve’s face, let alone Thor’s…

“Am I- ah- am I boring you, Stark?” 

Tony blinks dumbly, not thinking his movements had slowed, but apparently they had and the God of Mischief had noticed.

Thankfully, Loki just rolls his eyes and pulls Tony’s mouth back down to his. His teeth and tongue are moving against the engineer’s with a sense of urgency that has Tony’s mind truly reeling and his hips pitching forward.  Their movements are becoming erratic, and Tony finds himself longing for a better position, something that can bring them closer- always closer. Hooking his hand beneath one of Loki’s knees, Tony slouches forward and slings his leg over his shoulder, the adjustment coaxing an appreciative noise from the trickster below. Tony breaks away with a smug smirk, his hips working faster, harder, and causing Loki’s breaths to hitch in a way that lets Tony know he’s hitting the right spot. 

And he makes a point of hitting that spot over and over and over.

It feels like forever since he’s had Loki like this, his skin all flushed and slick with sweat, hot mouth open and panting against his neck, hands continually wandering, teasing _, scratching_. God it is amazing. How has he gone six weeks without this? 

He can feel him clawing at his back, piercing the smooth flesh as their bodies’ rock together. He knows he’s bleeding _, knows_ because the pain is too sharp, too striking, but god if it doesn’t feel good. He can feel Loki tightening around him, his muscle abused with Tony’s rough movements. And Tony is gasping and Loki is laughing, body shaking, pulsing, bent in two and twisted around Tony like a particularly leggy pretzel.

_Leggy pretzel?_ Fuck.

His mouth is at his ear, at his neck, sucking, biting, “yes, Tony. Yes!”

_Clenching. Clenching._

Loki’s cum coats their stomachs, his body wracked with pleasurable spasms as Tony fucks him through his orgasm. The god does well to remain clinging to Tony in the short moments it takes for the engineer to reach his end, spilling his seed into his god with a grunt and a _“Fuck!”_ before they both fall limply to the lounge.

 “God…” 

Loki laughs softly and drops his legs from Tony’s person, wriggling slightly to the side so he didn’t have to bare Tony’s full weight. 

“Shit, sorry, babe!” Tony apologises, quickly withdrawing and shuffling to switch their positions. Loki allows him to pull him to his side, his face coming to rest in the crook of his neck as his body curls in around him. Weight has never been an issue before, but as Tony’s hand hovers over the new swell of Loki’s stomach, contemplating whether it’d be wise to rest it there or not, he figures they can’t be too careful. 

Sighing lazily, Tony dips a hand to the carpet and snags his t-shirt, proceeding to mop the cum from their skin before tossing the garment back to the floor.  The blanket from earlier has been pushed to their feet, and while he kind of wants it, he can’t bring himself to reach down and get it, so instead he just settles on his side and pulls Loki close, content to share the heat of their bodies. 

“Hey ‘Lo?” 

“Mmm?”

“You’ve been alright, yeah?”

“Mm-hmm”

“Because, you know, since you left I haven’t been feeling…” 

Loki smiles against Tony’s neck, drawing him closer by slinging an arm over his waist. “I removed the curse before I departed. You think me so cruel as to have you suffer when I am not around to witness it?”

“How you take care of me.” Tony quips snarkily, his hand sliding down to issue a sharp pinch to the god’s ass. Loki jerks violently at the abuse, a strangled noise leaving his throat before he launches himself forward to sink his teeth into Tony’s collarbone. 

“Ahh-ahhh!” crying out loud, Tony tries to bat Loki away, the god finally releasing his jaw with a cocky hiss of laughter. 

He smiles innocently as Tony fingers the teeth marks marring his collar, his green eyes alight with amusement. “Oh but Tony, I thought you _liked_ being bitten.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re hilarious.” Tony replies dryly all narrowed eyes and sulky pout. Loki doesn’t fall for it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hope you all enjoyed it, hopefully the next part will be up much, much sooner than this part was! Thanks for reading guys! Love you!


	8. The Flaw of Flawlessness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper comes for a visit, and Tony realised he isn't the only one perving on our favourite trickster!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to update. This chapter has been a bitch- mostly because in my head, it wasn't a chapter at all, but a few short scenes that were meant to tack onto the end of the previous chapter. My intention for this story was for each chapter to be a 'snip-it' of life, and not necessarily have the chapters flow-on immediately from one another- so yeah, this chapter.... 
> 
> This chapter is weird. And pretty much just a means to move things along. Basically, badly written, incredibly rushed-feeling filler chapter- with fluff and mood-swings. 
> 
> But! On a happier note! I got to see Tom Hiddleston in person TWICE this October, as I attended both of the events in Sydney! I even managed to earn myself a smile from the wonderful man, and got it on camera!! He is amazing!

 

 

So, Tony likes the ‘post-sex power nap’ as much as the next guy… 

It’s nice and warm… _slightly sticky_ (but that doesn’t particularly bother him), it’s comfortable and sexy and Loki always tends to smell enticing no matter how sweaty or dirty he is- like his pores seep coconut, musky goodness instead of regular B.O.. Which is weird because he has smelt Thor after a gym session and the guy stinks of wet goat, ergo he has to assume it’s less a god thing and more a Loki thing, but anyway _\- Post-sex naps_.  Yeah, he likes them, has nothing against them, he just finds that he has a bit of trouble _achieving them_ when it’s barely passed midday and his face is still sporting this morning’s crust and dribble. 

Loki, on the other hand, has had no such trouble. 

What with the god being out like a light the moment he managed to catch his breath. 

With a cushion pillowing his head and his dark hair curling around his face, his features are relaxed, contented, and more at ease than Tony has seen them in months. It’s rare, Tony muses, for Loki to sleep so openly…or _it was_ , before he fell pregnant. Now, the god is forever weary, with dark bruises beneath his eyes and a tenseness pulling at his brow. Although…

Tony props himself on his side and leans over to better examine the man beside him. 

Looking at him now, Tony can honestly say, Loki is…well, he’s looking pretty damn good, actually.

It’s true that ever since he’s known him, even during those dark days in New York, Loki has had an unconventional sort of perfection about him- with all those sharp lines and the striking contrast between his skin and hair. The guy is attractive, there has never been any doubt. However, raw beauty aside, Loki’s always had an edge to him, a certain eeriness that sometimes verges on Tim Burton-esque, or in his more harrowing moments, shares the preternatural darkness of a vampire in an Anne Rice novel. Basically, and without a better word for it, Loki lacks a particular…. _light_. 

Or, he usually does.

Because lying here now, with his skin slightly flushed and the new weight decorating his mid-section, Loki looks, to all extents, to be the picture of health…and not just health either, but perfection. Literally. Tony leans in further to study the gods face (does he even have pores?), the guy is flawless. Actually, legitimately, no-fucking-joke, flawless.  He’s heard talk of pregnancy and glowing but this…

_You know what? I’m taking a picture!_

Fishing his phone out of the pocket of his discarded pants, Tony quietly opens his camera and takes a few quick snaps. The newest StarkPhone with its’ translucent/holographic screen did away with the need for a wallpaper feature, and while overall the update is an improvement, looking at the photo on the screen, Tony finds himself feeling a little nostalgic. For years, he remembers looking down at his phone and being greeted by a provocative photo of the Ironette dancers, all busty beauties with wide smiles, glossy lips and legs up to ying-yang. 

Now however, had the feature still been available, he thinks he’d prefer a much different image, and not for the first time, he’s struck by just how much his life has changed. 

“Sir, while I am sorry to disturb,” JARVIS’ voice cuts through his thoughts, causing Tony to drop his phone and for Loki to stir beside him. “But, I must inform you that Miss. Potts has just entered the lobby and as per her instruction, I am to remind you of the importance of instilling the ‘pants protocol’ before her arrival.” 

Tony sighs stubbornly, and runs a soothing hand down Loki’s flank, hoping to coax him back to sleep but knowing there is little chance of it working.  

“You have given that woman too much power.” Loki grumbles by his side, and Tony finds that he somewhat agrees with him. This is his tower after all, pants shouldn’t be an issue. 

Then again…

Stretching awkwardly, Tony reaches out to yank the blanket from down by their feet, quickly arranging the fabric around their bodies before resuming his place on the lounge. He winces slightly when the movement stretches the scratches on his back, and idly he wonders if he’s going to need to have the lounge reupholstered.

 _Worth it_ , he thinks smugly as he slides his arm around Loki’s shoulders, causing the god to let out amused puff of contentment before he wraps himself around Tony in return. 

He can hear the elevator sounding quietly, and quickly he checks the placement of the blanket, before the woman herself comes into view. Pepper may have a little too much sway in the workings of his tower, but Tony still cares for her too much to make an awkward situation all the _more awkward_. 

And it _will be_ awkward, because Loki- yeah, he will totally make sure of it.

Tony braces himself as the clicks of Pepper’s heels grow exceedingly louder. Subconsciously, he pulls Loki closer, the trickster’s lips already moving against his skin, sucking his earlobe between them, teasing it with teeth and tongue. 

Tony can already see how the whole thing will play out, knows that if he really were worried for Pepper’s sensibilities he would have found his pants and removed himself from the sofa and the god altogether. 

But! *Selfish bastard* right here! And not being one to deny is nature, Tony is left with no choice but to lie back and take things as they come.

And if that means enduring Loki’s magical tongue as he mouths along his neck,  or putting up with his long, talented fingers as they ghost over his nipples, circling, circling… forever touching,  as if every caress is another way of showing off his favourite genius-billionare possession…Well, he’ll just have to take it on the chin, then won’t he?

 Not to mention that clever knee that’s just barely brushing his crotch…

 _Fuck,_ he moans…

“Ton- ahh! Damn it, Tony! Do I have to be subjected to this every time? I know that JARVIS told you I was coming.”

Tony grins jauntily, and the god laughs, drawing away from the inventor’s neck with a shark-like smile.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss. Potts.” He drawls charmingly, his gaze focused on Pepper as his hand continues to stroke Tony’s body, one finger languidly tracing the scar left behind by the Arc Reactor. 

Pepper reguards him curiously. Her eyes narrow as they flicker over his face, his torso, _his face,_ taking him in with an intensity that makes Tony feel slightly uncomfortable, because what the fuck? When has she looked at Loki like that?

“Yeah, uhh…” Shaking herself, Pepper tightens her hold on the folder in her hands, muttering a snappish “Dido” before turning away completely. 

Tony is about to question what the hell is going on, when he is interrupted by Loki chuckling beside him. 

He watches silently as Loki smirks up at his CEO, all sharp teeth and mocking eyes. 

_He’s enjoying this way too much._

Squeezing Loki’s shoulder in a silent plea to behave, Tony directs a warm smiles up at his CEO, “How are you, Pep?”

“Oh, I’m just great Tony, honestly.” Pepper shakes her head, exasperated, “Sometimes I don’t know why I bother.”

Tony forces a grin, attempting to dispel the tension, “Come on, you know why…”

Pepper rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, instead moving to toss the plastic folder onto the coffee table with a loud thwack. “That’s the final itinerary for tomorrow night, look over it. Remember you _are_ required to give a speech, so please _try_ not to get too drunk beforehand.”

Tony pouts as he glances over at the A4 folder, pink tabs sticking out of the top and sides, probably marking everything Pepper deems important in horribly boring detail. 

“Tomorrow night?”

“Charity gala,” Tony replies flippantly, “told you about it ages ago, though you _maaaaay_ not have been listening- think you were watching Kill Bill at the time- anyway, you’re going.”

Loki shifts, looking up at him with an obstinate expression. “Oh am I?”

Tony rolls his eyes and waves the god’s arguments away, “Yes, _you are_. You’re back- you have no excuse. And don’t be like that- I know you like messing with the media.”

“You know Tony,” Pepper pipes up quickly, “I’d really rather you didn’t do anything…. _regrettable_ this year. It took me _months_ to squash the rumours after last year’s banquet, please just…don’t go overboard, okay?”

Tony laughs, loving that she knows better than to ask them to ‘behave’, “Don’t go overboard, got it! Hey, you didn’t get that band from last year, did you? Cause they seriously sucked. And I don’t mean ‘I’ve seen better’ kind’a sucked. I mean, like, Rick Astley cover band kind’a sucked. You know, I think Bruce _may_ have been a little green...”

Pepper scrunches her nose, “God, even if I could get them back after how Clint acted... No, no, we got someone else. And before you ask-”

Tony wisely shuts his mouth.

“Tenacious D is and forever will be inappropriate entertainment for a charity event. I don’t care how big a favour you owe Jack Black. Which, I might add, you still haven’t told me about!”

Tony whines, “But Pep, think about it! We’ll be bringing in a completely different crowd!”

Pepper looks at him as if he’s an idiot, “A new crowd? Tony, a charity event should not come with a severe language warning.” She laughs softly, her head shaking from side to side, “God knows, it’s bad enough you’re going to be there.”

“And whose fault is that?” Tony retorts childishly, “I told you I’d be more than happy to sit this one out.”

Loki shuffles beside him,“Ohh, and what’s this?” he asks slyly, his expression inquisitive as he moves to meet Tony’s eyes. “Don’t tell me the great Tony Stark is retiring from the spotlight?” 

Tony laughs, “Unlikely. I’m just not keen on being stuck in a room with a bunch of brown-nosing bureaucrats. I mean, it’s alright for you two, all you have to do is show up and look pretty- maybe have a few drinks, smooze a little- but they are relying on me to draw in the big figures, to woo the masses, to bring a certain…” what’s that saying? “ _Je ne sais quoi!_ ”

Pepper snorts.

So does Loki.

And while that in its self is unnerving and, yeah, even a wee bit insulting, Tony can’t bring himself to care when the startled look which passes between them is so damn priceless.

Tony grins widely, eyes alight with amusement as he takes in the awkward scene.

_Wellity, wellity, wellity, isn’t this something?_

Pepper and Loki have always made a point of being polar opposites- friction personified- agreement futile- so this small display of unity, as unintentional as it may have been, well…it’s a commodity to say the least. 

And in its wake, the tension is blistering. 

Tony almost laughs as the silence stretches on, the pair merely eyeing each other up with a mixture of suspicion and bemusement. 

“I-” Pepper looks away finally, colour rising to her cheeks and an odd look once again crossing her features “I actually have a meeting to get to, so I guess I should be…”

Tony smirks at his CEO, winking up at her as if to let her know that _oh yes, he saw that._   

“I’ll call you tomorrow morning, okay?”

Tony nods silently, his interest once again stolen by the cool body pressed to his side and the dexterous hand which has dipped beneath the edge of the blanket. 

Pepper sighs, “Do me a favour, okay?” 

Tony looks up at the woman standing by their feet, her features pensive but strangely ‘all business’. 

Tony gets the feeling he should be worried.

“And this involves you too,” His CEO tacks on soberly, a finger pointing at Loki.

(Tony is definitely worried.)

“When I _do_ call,” Pepper warns her tone all-suffering, “and I can’t stress this enough… When I do call, please, PLEASE, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT, have _your cock”_ Tony splutters, _“a_ nywhere _near his mouth_!” 

“For goodness sake, Tony!” Pepper throws up her hands, sending him another peevish look as Loki chortles beside him, “We dated for years, and I can tell when you’re getting off!”

 

 

Well,” Loki quips sometime later, causing Tony to turn to him numbly.

The trickster is smirking, his eyes wide and painfully mirthful, “Sounds like a challenge…wouldn’t you agree?” 

Tony, _really_ , doesn’t think he should.

 

* * *

 

 

As it turned out, when all was said and done, Loki did in fact have something phallic in his mouth the moment Peppers phone call rolled around.  And, to her credit, Tony was, indeed, too aroused for polite conversation.  

However, despite earlier speaks of un-agreed challenges and cocks  in mouths, the something in question (to Loki’s great annoyance) was not Tony’s penis  but a slowly melting, red popsicle- which Tony might add, had no right to elicit such sounds of pleasure from his boyfriend (marginally _psychotic_ life partner), nor should it cause such an obscene tightening in Tony’s pants.

But, alas! It’s his own fault- having been the one to deny Loki his fun in the first place.

And as a cruel twist of fate, having to explain to Pepper that _no_ , his cock wasn’t in Loki’s mouth, but _yes_ , he _was_ incredibly aroused and then have to sit there for fifteen-odd-minutes listening to her voice as it rose octave after octave….

Oh well, at least he isn’t the only one having a real butt-hurt of a day. 

Loki- though put out by Tony thwarting his little game- was actually in rather good spirits this morning, slurping down his syrupy confection with an alluring vigour as he undertook all of the necessary preparations for the day. He seemed strangely pleased with himself, smiling smugly and basking in Tony’s discomfort, as he moved about the room. That’s probably why Tony felt somewhat appeased when moments later Loki emerged from the walk in closet with a scowl on his face and the exclamation that ‘nothing fits!’ His temper rising as he threw clothes across the carpet. 

It was amusing for a while, seeing Loki’s face flush, and his usual elegance desert him- sitting as an unravelling mess on the bedroom floor. Tony had not seen anything like it, really he hadn’t, and when he finally regained himself enough to ask the god why he didn’t just magic himself some clothes like he usually did, things only got worse.

Tony ducked a belt-buckle projectile.

The God hissed, growled, and swore.

And somehow he ended up being dragged around a shopping mall for three straight hours of “No honey, those pants don’t make you look fat,” and “Yeah that t-shirt totally brings out your eyes”. 

And don’t get him started on the _look_ he got after suggesting they check-out the maternity section! Phhwooaaarrr….

Still, the outing did have its advantages. Change rooms are a lot more fun than Tony remembered; especially in some of the larger boutiques where the stalls (if you can call them that) were both spacious and extravagantly furnished. On more than one occasion, whilst helping Loki ‘dress’ (see: fuck against mirror), Tony found himself searching for the mini-bar, because _surely_ , with the floral arrangements, the abstract art and the low-lying chaise lounge in the corner, it’s the only thing the pretentious bastards were missing in there. 

But anyway, all public indecency lawsuits aside, Tony made it out of the shopping expedition without feeling too duped, and Loki- despite his frustration at “being surrounded by mortals” seemed overall satisfied with the outcome, and isn’t that the main thing? (Well, the main thing was probably getting away from the creepy-ass salesman in Hugo Boss, seriously did the guy have to follow them so closely? There’s nothing charming about rape eyes, man! But other than that) Yeah, that’s probably the main thing. 

_Thumbs up, cheesy smile, great success!_

Yeah, anyway…

 

It has been a few hours since they’d returned to the tower, and Tony is dressed in his Sunday (Friday) best, hair perfectly styled and shoes tied tight on his feet. He has forty-five minutes before they need leave, so creases be damned, he has taken to lounging across their bed and watching (ogling) Loki as he primps in the mirror.  The god appears pensive as he reguards his reflection, his hands continually smoothing the fabric of his waistcoat, and adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. 

Personally, Tony can’t see any flaws, the rich charcoal grey of his suit paired with the white collared shirt (which he has meticulously rolled to the elbows, having chosen to forgo the jacket), is both slimming and complimentary to his colouring, and most importantly, the fit is just loose enough to hide any…curious changes to Loki’s usually rail thin body. So, yeah, all in all, no flaws…no flaws at all. 

Tony’s eyes narrow as he sits up on the bed, his gaze raking over the other man with renewed intensity.

Loki has taken to running his fingers through his hair, taming the strands with practised ease and securing it in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck. The action causes a familiar twinge to shoot through Tony’s stomach, and while he’s always had a healthy sex drive, he has to wonder if he’s caught some of Loki’s horney hormones…because, the hair thing, yeah its attractive, but it’s not something Tony loses his shit over. Not usually.

Tony purses his lips.

But then again, up until today the sight of Loki’s bare shoulder blades wouldn’t have had him bending the god over the back of the ‘husband’s chair’ in the Calvin Kline change room.  

_Shoulder blades_ \- that’s weird isn’t it? Tony shifts awkwardly in his dress pants. Even now, just thinking about the smooth planes of his back, the sharp line of bone and the lithe muscles beneath…

_Flawless…_

Did he really just miss the bastard that much? That now he can’t even look at him, think of him, without becoming transfixed?

Tony is suddenly reminded of a young blonde cafe attendant fumbling blindly with the EFTPOS machine as she attempted to process their lunch. At the time he’d chalked it up to the girl’s nerves, her excitement at being in the presence of such well known celebrities…

But now…now he’s not so sure.

Even through the alternating haze of sex and boredom, Tony recalls having caught more than a few lingering looks- lingering looks which didn’t even flicker when Tony met the gawker’s gaze. These people had no subtlety. No excitement for the celebrity spectacle, just fluttering eyelashes, gaping mouths and the occasional set of rape eyes.

It wasn’t the lure of fame drawing their attention, but the lure of something else.

Tony’s eyes widen as he thinks back on yesterday, to the way Pepper’s eyes had focused in on the god so shrewdly, to the way she could barely find words…

Hell, even he was dazzled to the point of sneaky photography. The guy has no _fucking flaws._

 

“We have to tell them.” 

Loki freezes, and silence falls, his pale hands stilling in the application of his tie. Tony tenses as his eyes catch the god’s in the mirror and immediately he wants to kick himself.

“Does the waistcoat not hide it suitably?” Loki replies stiffly, his voice dull as he resumes the twisting of the black fabric. 

“-It’s not that…” Tony corrects feebly, standing from the bed and making his way to his side. Loki doesn’t turn but continues to adjust the silk around his neck, his posture screaming of irritation. 

Tony sighs, grabbing the god’s elbows and forcing him to face him, “It’s not that,” Tony repeats, and Loki’s eyes reluctantly meet his own. 

Fuck, how is he meant to explain something which is barely clear to him? 

“I think…I think you look different.” Tony explains softly, brushing his fingertips across the god’s abdomen. “But it’s not this…” 

Loki looks at him cryptically, his tone cold, “Go on.”  

Tony sighs, “It’s kinda hard to explain,”

Understatement of the fucking century! What the hell is his argument anyway? That Loki’s suddenly become the pinnacle of attractive and every man, woman and child is going to notice it? _Is_ noticing it? 

Are they noticing it?

Is Tony over-exaggerating?

Squeezing his eyes shut, Tony attempts a quick re-evaluation. 

Because, who knows, maybe it’s all a coincidence. 

The girl at the check-out, Pepper, the sudden urge to worship every inch of Loki’s incredibly perfect body…

_“Stark!”_

Tony jolts skittishly, his eyes blowing wide as he blinks up at the god. 

Still fucking flawless…

Yeah, they need to tell them.

“Okay, okay,” Tony concedes finally, his hands rolling in the air as he searches for some way to tactfully explain.

It’s a pity Tony has never really had any tact.

Oh well, winging it has worked for him in the past.

“So, I dunno about Asgard or whatever, but here on Earth there’s this thing people say about pregnant women, and that’s that they have this _glow.” Not bad, keep it going, “_ Which, I think just means that they look really healthy, or maybe it’s just said to make them feel better when they aren’t fitting into any of their--- “ Loki’s lip curls and immediately Tony realises his mistake, “Ahhh, anyway. What I’m getting at is that it’s not literal…I mean, sure, they may look a little better than usual but it’s not this big, glaringly obvious thing, you know? It’s just something people say. But, Loki, with you...” Tony shakes his head, “it’s just different with you. _You glow_.”

The god rolls his eyes, and for a moment Tony thinks he may even laugh at him, “Stark, I think I’d know if I were _glowing._ ”

Tony grins smartly, “Well, yeah. You’re not glowing _now_ , but give me a minute- I’ll run down to the lab, grab a few florescent lights, have Jay put on some dub-shit, and we’ll open ourselves a nightclub right here in the bedroom. It’ll be fun; we can get Cap up here and teach him a few things about the twenty-first century.”

Loki scoffs, and pushes passed Tony and into the adjoining bathroom, apparently not buying into his indisputably sketchy reasoning even for a second. Not that Tony thought he would, mind you, he knows for a fact that the god blocks out more than half of his crap-talking…and unfortunately, that also includes the crap-talking which isn’t actually crap-talking, but highly-important-completely-valid-and-utterly-prudent- ** _non_** -crap-talking, as it happens to be in this instance. 

Tony groans and scampers after the retreating god, flinging a hand out just in time to stop the door slamming in his face. _“Uh-uh-uh, we’re not done here!”_

Loki turns back to him with a look of consternation, his arms folding threateningly over his chest. “We don’t have time for this, Stark.” 

“Yeah, you’re right, we don’t.” Tony moves in closer, his hands moving to grasp the taller man’s forearms, and his tone becoming serious, “So if you’d just listen to me, and actually _hear what I’m saying_ , you can get back to curling your eyelashes, or gelling your hair, or whatever-the-fuck-else you plan to do for the next forty-five-“

“ _Thirty-four_ minutes, Sir.” 

Tony rolls his eyes, “Right- _thirty-four_ \- minutes. Just…Loki, believe me on this, okay? They are going to notice, _they are_ -” 

“- _Because I glow?”_ Loki deadpans, causing Tony to sigh in frustration.

“Yes!” he shouts, before shaking his head with vigour, “No! Just forget about that! You- you look different, okay? And it’s not really something I can explain, because it’s everything! I should have said something yesterday, but I thought it was just me- but then today at the shopping centre, and yesterday with Pepper-“

“Pepper? Tony, you either start making sense or-“

“Loki, it’s your face, it’s your hair, it’s your skin…Loki, have you _seen_ your skin lately?”

“What are you- of course I’ve-“

“You’re so god-damn smooth it’s like your some six foot, Asgardian china doll! I can’t even get my head around ho-“

His scull makes a loud crack as it hits the door frame, Loki’s hands all but crushing his shoulders as the taller man crowds him against the threshold. Tony’s mouth drops into a surprised ‘o’ as he takes in the furious green eyes before him. To many they would appear frightening, but to Tony, who has long since lost his fear, the look is nothing more than a warning and a reminder of all those nights spent alone in one of the tower’s guest rooms.   

“Shit, Loki- what was that for!?”

The god looks haywire, livid (confused?), and it takes all of two seconds for Tony’s mind to catch up. 

China doll- porcelain- fragile- breakable- currently vulnerable pregnant god with more self-esteem issues than you can poke a stick at.

Tony cringes, _Ohh_.

“Babe, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Oh?” Loki snaps, sounding both violently angry and heartbreakingly lost, “And how _did_ you mean it?”

“Loki, _you know how I meant it_!” 

“Just go, would you?”

Tony bristles at the tone, his irritation rising as the apology on the tip of his tongue threatens to slide back down his throat. He doesn’t let it. “Okay, fine- I’m sorry alright? You’re edgy and hormonal, and we don’t have to talk about this right now, just…What?”

A cold chill runs down Tony’s spine as Loki’s eyes flash bright.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I said I’m sor---“

 _Hormonal._ He’d said he’s _hormonal._

_Fuck!_

_You know what, I'm just going to stop talking…_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for reading and reviewing, and again, sorry for the crapness of this chapter! The next chapter will be a little different to all the others before this...as we will be seeing a lot more of Thor! 
> 
> :)


	9. When You're Right, You're Right!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Jane are on to you...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not dead! Sorry for the long wait guys! Thank you all for hanging with me, and all the wonderful support! You are amazing! I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and New Years! :)
> 
> This chapter is a bit of an interlude...before the more serious stuff in the next chapter, and it is very dialogue heavy...so yeaahhh, sorry about that. 
> 
> Hope you like it anyway...

“There is something wrong with my Brother.” 

 “Oh yeah?” Jane laughs, “What tipped you off?” 

“Ooh! Ooh! Was it the text-book narcissism? Or wait, don’t tell me,” Darcy’s face twists with mock concentration, her hands curling into fists by her ears, “I got it! It’s that thing he does…you know, where he attempts to subjugate the World!” She grins winningly, “That’s it, isn’t it?”

Thor frowns at the women beside him, his beautiful and loyal Jane barely containing her mirth as Darcy elbows her knowingly. “I know not why you jest, I am serious,” he speaks gravely, “Can you not see that something’s amiss?”

“You mean, besides Tony showing up with a shiner?”

Jane shoots Darcy a cautionary look- a silent threat which the younger woman is forever on the other end of. 

“Well, what do you mean by ‘wrong’ exactly?” She asks, turning back to Thor with a patient expression. “Do you think he’s sick or…”

Three sets of eyes find their way into the crowd, gliding between finely dressed bodies and scarcely laid furniture to where Loki is stood some ways away, talking animatedly to a small group of people (women, mostly, but there is a couple of men in the mix), an agreeable expression on his lips and a glass of wine dangling from his fingers. 

“He doesn’t look real sick to me.” Darcy pipes up smartly, her gaze taking a turn for the appraising rather than the critical. 

He can see Jane nodding beside him, mumbling a dry “can’t argue with you there…” as she leans forward on her barstool.

Thor has to admit that to most onlookers his Brother would appear to be in his element, all finely crafted mannerisms and laughing green eyes- alluringly charming and frighteningly intimidating all at once. 

It’s a lie, of course. And it’s one Thor is all too familiar with, having he himself been the gullible ears to Loki’s ploy on more than one (thousand) occasions. 

And that’s why it’s so wrong. 

Because he _should be_ none the wiser…But he is.

The tautness of Loki’s shoulders, the subtle presence to his movements, it’s as if…as if he is hiding something. “Whatever it is that ails my Brother,” Thor voices earnestly, “it has him distracted. Of that much, I’m certain.”

“Yeah, well…” Darcy shrugs, raising her champagne to her lips, “Why don’t you just ask him?”

Thor balks, “I do not think that will end well.” 

Darcy appears unperturbed, rolling her eyes as she twirls the glass flute in her hand, “Ask Tony then!”

“Hmmm”, it’s not a bad idea, really - to ask Tony. Not that he believed the inventor would reveal anything of the problem in detail…but still, if he could assuage some of his worries… “Loki would not be pleased to learn I’ve been inquiring after him…” 

“Pffftt!” Darcy scoffs, “Well, he’ll get over it! I mean, it’s not like you’re doing it for the wrong reasons or whatever! You’re doing it out of, like, brotherly concern and love and stuff! Right, Jane?”

Thor turns his attention to the silent woman beside him, seemingly oblivious to the conversation going on around her. “Jane?”

“Huh? Oh…yeah, ask Tony.” 

Darcy’s eyes narrow shrewdly at the other brunette, studying her for a few moments, before turning her attention back to Loki.

It’s true that Thor has never fancied himself an expert in the ways of women, far from it, but he does know when he is missing something, and right now, he is definitely missing something.

And whatever that something is, it is making him feel distinctly uncomfortable.

“Heh,”

Thor glances over at Darcy, hoping to meet her gaze- to be given some answers- but instead, he’s faced with an almost perfect imitation of his lady Jane- the two women sitting silent, eyes fixed in the distance; chins perched in hands, mouths pursed, and brows perplexed. 

Frowning thoughtfully, Thor slumps forward and looks back through the crowd. If he has learnt anything from the women in his life- his late Mother, Sif, Natasha, Darcy, Jane- it’s that they often see things where men do not. Whether it is a subtle downturn of lips, or a dirty sock stuffed in the bread box, it is as if they have a sixth sense for all things ignorable. So this rather intense scrutiny of his Brother…certainly, _certainly_ it must mean something?

Thor spends the next few minutes attempting to observe Loki as closely as his companions, dropping his face in his hand, and watching as his Brother continues to charm his respective audience. 

Darcy is right on one account. 

Loki does not look sick. 

In fact, he looks as if he’s spent the past six week swimming in the infamous ‘Fountain of Youth’, or…perhaps…

Eaten more than his fair share of Idunn’s apples…

_But, surely not…Loki knows of the consequences…knows that…_

_No. No. It can’t be that._

_Still…He is looking verily-_

 “He’s really rocking that suit, isn’t he?” Darcy attests casually, her voice gently invading his thoughts and causing him to tense a little. He wonders for a moment if women possess innate intuition, of if they can actually read minds…By Odin, if they do…

Suddenly, Thor is no longer certain what he is more worried about…

This issue with his Brother…

The fact that Jane is ostensibly agreeing with Darcy (“Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm.”)

Or that, if his traitorously nodding head and highly questionable thoughts are anything to go by, apparently, so is he…   

 

* * *

 

 

“Sorry, folks! Can I just…yeah, you- me, we gotta talk.” 

“Do we now? Can I ask what about? ” Loki smiles, speaking more to their onlookers than to Tony himself.  

“Ohh, I don’t know,” Tony bristles, “Apparently, I’m pretty fond of cock fighting, how about we talk about that?!”

Loki laughs, extending a theatrical hand towards his crowd before allowing Tony to herd him away.

“Fuck, Loki!” Tony curses, stopping at a relatively uncrowded spot at the bar; god knows he’ll be in need of a drink soon anyway. For a second his eyes dart back to the small group of journo’s now outwardly staring at them, and he tugs the God a few steps further. “How did you come up with that, anyway?” He continues in a lower voice, “The hooker story I can understand, I got a history, I get it, but where the hell did the rooster come from?”

Loki shrugs casually, “It is no less likely than ‘Thor and the badminton.’”

“Thor and the-” Tony shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, “You know what? Fuck it. You’re dealing with Pepper tomorrow, because when she gets wind of this, I’m high-tailing it to Malibu.”

Yes, sweet, sunny Malibu, far away from head-case Gods and hysterical CEOs. 

“It’s been quite some time since we’ve visited the coast…” Loki muses wryly, now resting casually against the wooden counter and drumming his nails against his wine glass.   

Tony wants to smack him.

“Ohh no! _You’re_ not coming! _You’re_ staying right _here,_ dealing with this bullshit. I swear, Loki, if this is about me inviting Thor- _”_

Loki rolls his eyes, “Pfft, that oaf has nothing to do with it. Really, Anthony, I am doing you a service.  Is this not the best cover? When the magazines go to print, the public won’t know what to believe.”

“Yeah, well…” So the guy has a point, and a rather good one at that…but did he have to make him out to be such an asshole? It is bad enough Tony had to show up to a charity event with their most recent altercation clearly displayed on his face, even worse knowing that he deserved it in the first place. Still, justified or not, Loki is a cruel fucking mistress...

Despite Tony’s colourful whinging, the trickster out-right refused to heal him and instead of procuring him a glamour, Loki merely smiled and handed him a disgustingly claggy pot of too-light concealer. 

_(“Thanks a lot, douchebag. I swear, when you’re in labour, you can just forget about the epidural.”)_

So, he knows that was a little harsh, but come on, _Charity event!_

And it’s not like he could blame it on his world-saving shenanigans, not without evoking SHIELD’s wrath, and opening an entirely different can of worms- after all, as far as the public’s concerned things have been pretty ‘peaceful’ for months now.

Yep, Loki well and truly fucked him….and not in a good way, and now he’s stuck with agreeing with the bastard, even though that’s the last thing he wants to do, especially when he’s…

Tony’s eyes widen as he watches the God before him.

_Drinking?_

“Woah, hey!”  Loki glares as the glass is snatched from his hand, “No, _no! We’ve spoken about this!_ ”

“Have we?” Loki deadpans. 

_Yes, we HAVE, you pretentious brat!_

Like with all of their previous pregnancy-related conversations, it was mostly just Tony throwing out suggestions, and Loki shutting them down. _Big shock there._   But, the alcohol thing, yeah, that is proving particularly difficult; because while Tony is well aware of how detrimental drinking can be to a _human foetus,_ Loki is impossibly adamant that it is not the same case for _Jotun_.

And as it stands now, with his jaw tight and his arms folded across his chest, it looks like Loki fully intends to reiterate this notion. 

_Yeah, well, bring it on!_

Tony’s eyes narrow stubbornly.

Loki’s eyes narrow in return.

Tony downs the remains of Loki’s wine.

Loki’s lips twitch in challenge.

Tony knows what the God’s next move will be, can see it in the brightness of his eyes, the almost imperceptible tilt to his chin. 

“Don’t.” Tony hums lowly, a warning…

…perceived as _a dare._

Without breaking eye contact, Loki is slowly raising his arm. 

_“Don’t”_ Tony presses again, but he knows it’s a lost cause. The trickster is already smiling, and his fingers already moving, and the bartender’s already approaching.

“You don’t even want a drink.” Tony tells him balefully.

But Loki doesn’t waver.

And they stare each other down. 

_(“Don’t you dare,”)_

_(“What will you do to stop me?”)_

_Don’t bite, don’t bite, don’t bite._

The smirk which snakes its way onto those thin, pale lips feels remarkably like teeth piercing skin.

And before he realises it, Loki is twisting, leaning across the bar, _laughing_ as he murmurs into the barman’s ear.  

Tony watches as the blonde flushes, sucking in a quick breath as Loki’s clever lips graze his stubbled cheek _. Hook, line and sinker._ It’s a few moments before the guy can gather himself enough to scamper away and do his bidding, fumbling clumsily with the schooner glass as he attempts to work the tap.

Tony wants to laugh…he won’t, because, let’s face it, he’s not a loser…but still, the desire is there. 

Trust Loki to reduce a competent bartender into a gangly, inexperienced mess. 

“You’re not funny.”

Loki quirks a sardonic brow, making a point of eyeballing the man pouring his drink (rather badly, Tony might add. Too much head,) “I really think I am.”

“Anything for you, Mr Stark?” The barman asks when he returns, setting the beer in front of Loki. He is speaking to Tony, but the constant side glances towards the God suggest otherwise. 

Tony smiles a little too widely, “Oh no, the beer’s for me!” he says sliding the chilled glass closer to himself, “He’s having a coke.”

“ _Rum_ and coke,” Loki corrects, locking his bright eyes on the shorter man.

“That’s what I said. _A virgin rum and coke_.” 

The blonde behind the bar is watching their tennis match confusedly, obviously unsure who he’s supposed to listen to. 

“You can go.” Tony quips, not looking away from Loki. He can see the man’s hasty retreat out of the corner of his eye, and once again, he wants to laugh.

Instead, he sighs and moves toward his infuriating lover, placing his hands on those thin hips and drawing him closer. Loki looks mildly amused by his sudden change in demeanour, smirking slightly as he props an elbow on the bar and stares at him down the line of his nose. 

“Look, you’re right, okay?” Tony admits reluctantly, “I don’t know much about this stuff. Shit, I really don’t. _But neither do you_. So, _until we know more_ , can you just forget that you’re a contrary ass, and humour me?”

Loki huffs and juts out his bottom lip. Tony ponders the backlash if he were to lean up and take it between his teeth. 

_Seventy per-cent says the outcome would be pleasurable, twenty per-cent says negative, and ten per-cent is yet to be accounted for…_

It’s that ten per-cent which makes it too high a risk.

“You wish to tell Banner. That is what you’re getting at…”

Tony smiles earnestly, sliding an arm around Loki’s waist, and leaning in to his side- commencing suck-up tactics. “Well, it _would_ make things _easier_ , if we told them.”

“-Tell who what?”

“Fuck!” Tony in no way squeals when Jane pops up beside him, an incredibly manly, high-pitched grunt bursting forth. “Who are you, the Flash? Where’d you come from?” 

Jane giggles cheekily, “You know, sort of…” she points vaguely at the dance floor, “that…general  vicinity. So--, what’re we talking about?”

_Shit._

“Uhh…”

He’s drawing a…damn…he’s drawing a…

“Stark is having a minor over-reaction to the stories I’ve been telling the press.”

Thank you, God of Lies!

“Hey, yeah, I’ve heard like five different versions!”  Jane smiles wryly, taking a sip from the champagne in her hand.

“Five?!” Tony splutters, glaring up at the man beside him, “I’ve only heard three!” 

“There are six variations in total, though some are more detailed than others, and two are inter-related and could be construed as one…” Loki explains casually, not in the least bit phased by Tony’s growing frustration.

 “I’m kind of obligated to like the Thor one,” Jane muses lightly, “But the disgruntled baby-momma…” she laughs, “Well…Tony, how many illegitimate children _do_ you have out there?”

Tony eyes Loki with a raised brow, ( _disgruntled baby-momma, huh?)_ before replying with a blasé shrug, “Eh, it’s hard to say. I’d like to think it’s more than one and less than ten, but hey, I really don’t remember much of the eighty’s. ” 

Loki laughs softly at that, perhaps because he likes the image of Tony stumbling around for years on end, shit-faced and wild on wealth and weed, whores and heroin- or perhaps it’s because in a strange way, he can relate- after all, in Loki’s long life, he’s sure to have lost a few hundred years here or there…not to mention his time in the void.

In fact, let’s not mention his time in the void.

“So, Jane,” Tony speaks up, opting for a change of topic (even if the one that irks him so is only in his head) “where’s the entourage?” 

“The entourage?” Jane replies coyly, “Thor and Darcy are dancing…she’s the one wearing in-closed shoes, so...”

“A tactical decision on your behalf?” Loki needles conversably, straightening from the bar and moving closer to the engineer. For a moment, Tony finds his attention drawn to Loki’s hand, fingers flexing irritably, before grazing across the front of his waistcoat and lingering…

Ha.

Looking back up into his face, Tony inwardly snickers. He doesn’t even realise.

“The first time I danced with him,” Jane replies grudgingly, “I swear, I had to ice my feet for a week! Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy, but he really has no more elegance than a stampeding rhino. No, no, tonight Darcy can have him; I like my toes intact and blood free, thank you very much.”

“No ‘first dance’ at the wedding then?” Tony quips teasingly, grinning at Jane. And because he’s an asshole and kind of lives for getting on Loki’s nerves, he steps up to wrap an arm around the Trickster and set his hand, rather pointedly, atop Loki’s own. “Though, if you ask nicely,” subtle hand squeeze, “I could be persuaded to fund some steel-capped heels for the occasion…”

The young scientist laughs, and Loki has…momentarily stopped breathing. Poor guy, look at him trying to act like he’s not choking on mortification, or plotting his lover’s demise.

Actually, he should be more worried about that second bit…

“Thanks, Tony,” Jane replies with a sarcastic rising of her glass, “but I think there needs to be an engagement before there’s a wedding.” 

 “Yeah, probably.” Tony shrugs, not missing the shrewd look in Jane’s eye, “But, come on, it’s only a matter of time before the big guy pulls his head out of his ass and pops the question. How long you been together? Three? Four years?”

Jane hums noncommittally; her gaze trailing just passed his shoulder to the dance-floor, “Four.”

Loki makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, frowning as he pulls his hand from beneath Tony’s to wrap around his abandoned beer. Tony pinches his hip but decides not to mention it so long as it stays away from his lips. 

“What is four years in five thousand?” Loki muses drily, appearing casual despite the implications of his words. Jane sighs- the sound of a woman resigned.

Tony wonders how resigned she really is.

They don’t speak of mortality much anymore, Tony and Loki. They decided some years ago that it wouldn’t be an issue- not when they are both so fickle, and their relationship not exactly an exclusive one.  (The fact that Tony hasn’t fucked anyone else -bar Loki- for going on eight months now…well, that remains to be seen…and really isn’t the point.) The point is, _they_ don’t talk about mortality…but Jane and Thor _do_ …

Because Jane and Thor are in an adult relationship, with adult feelings, and adult problems.

Like love and marriage and mortality.

Tony looks over at Loki. 

The God is eying him with an unreadable expression, his dark brows furrowed and eyes intense. 

Tony tries to swallow.

They’ve had many silent conversations in their time, but for the life of him, he has no idea what’s being said in this one.

“Anyway…” Jane mutters awkwardly, attempting to break the tension- for them, or for her, he’s not completely sure. 

Either way, he loves her for it. 

God, he really, really loves her for it.

 

* * *

 

 “There’s something going on with your brother.” Jane agrees some time later, “And Tony.  Something’s going on with Tony.”

Thor is beaming at her, vibrating with relief. “You see it too!”

Jane nods slightly, her eyes tracking the dancing figures of Darcy and Loki as they move together across the floor. She can see Tony standing at a table off to the side, chatting with a dark-haired waitress holding a tray of champagne flutes. He seems to be making a valiant effort to relieve the girl of the drinks as quickly as possible, handing them out to random walkers-by, or downing them himself. 

“I don’t think they’re fighting…but they’re acting…”

Thor is nodding, “Yes, I noticed that too.”

Jane’s eyes narrow as she watches the scene- Loki smirking at Tony, Tony glaring at Loki. 

Tony drinking.

He’d seemed fine when Darcy had stolen Loki away to dance…He’d just shrugged his shoulders and gone right on with his conversation.

Could not care less…

It wasn’t until the waitress approached, and Darcy snagged two glasses from her tray, handing one off _to Loki_ , that Tony excused himself and took off into the crowd…

“Can you think of a reason Tony wouldn’t want Loki to be drinking?”

“Drinking?” Thor blinks at her in surprise, a strange look of recognition passing over his features, “No…not one I dare contemplate…”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, next chapter will be a big, important one! 
> 
> Thanks again for the support! xox


	10. So we're growing a baby...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Convincing your friends that you knocked up you boyfriend is easier said than done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait guys! I really do suck with the timely updates...but this chapter proved to be a bit of a bitch to write. A lot of fun though! Hope you like it! Things should pick up a little after this one...and there will be lots more Avengers!

Tony loves being right.

In fact, Tony loves being right _so much_ , that he’d go so far as to say, that _being right_ is one of his _favourite things ever._

Because, think about it…

Think about the ‘I told you so’, the ‘in your face’, the ‘I’ll be having that apology now’.

Think about the feeling.

Are you thinking about it?

It’s nice isn’t it?

Now think about being right, _in an argument with Loki._

Is that cum in his pants? Because he’s pretty sure that’s an orgasm.

…

…

Or not.

Cause seriously, almost all his friends are here, and that would be awkward…

 _But God!_ The feeling!

He can still see the look on Loki’s face when he’d finally given in, when he’d _admitted defeat,_ when he’d cried “Ohh Tony, I’ve been a fool! A foolish, foolish fool! You were right all along! Please, allow me to perform oral repentance!”

(Or, you know, something like that.)

(Or nothing like that.)

But who cares! He’s right.

And it’s all thanks to that beautiful guy from the sky, the boy-wonder of thunder, the God with the…lightning rod?

Now he’s thinking about Thor’s penis…

And he really doesn’t need that. Not right now.

Tony cringes as he looks over at the blonde God seated on his couch, the larger man returning his gaze with keen interest.

“Are we not going to get this over with?”

Tony glances at Loki, standing beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. “We’re waiting for Pepper.”

Loki rolls his eyes, “And you think her presence will make this _easier_ for you…”

“No,” Tony grunts, staring at his wrist watch and avoiding the many eyes in the room, “But she needs to be here. Happy and Clint aren’t here yet anyway.”

“If we wait much longer, my Brother is going to combust.”

“All the more reason.”

Loki’s lips twitch at that, obviously enjoying the mental image of Thor’s innards being splattered all over the room.

For once, Tony doesn’t blame him.

Thor is no Sherlock Holmes, but damn, if he isn’t a dog with a bone.

After the Charity Event, the God must have cottoned on to something being wrong (‘Haha! What did I say!’) and he was ostensibly hell-bent on parading that knowledge around until he gained the desired recognition. This meant cornering Tony in the kitchen for a round of Loki Q & A every morning, and throwing out outlandish conspiracy theories about magic and curses and whether Loki had been to Muspelheim recently. Tony had deflected his questions as best he could, but when the Thunder God moved on to prodding his brother personally, things got a little more difficult.

Loki came to him early last night after two days of the silent treatment, and four days of constant arguing. Tony had JARVS send a message to the team immediately. They called for everyone to meet in the main living area at two o’clock this afternoon to ‘discuss a matter of extreme importance’ (JARVIS’ words, not his)- Pepper, Happy and Rhodey being sent private messages to reiterate the necessity of their attendance, and Bruce a slightly altered one hinting at Tony borrowing his expertise.

Tony had spoken to Thor this morning. The look of urgency on the God’s face was…scary to say the least, and while he didn’t outright admit it, when Thor asked, Tony didn’t deny that the meeting would be about Loki…

Looking at the Thunder God now, in fact, looking at the whole team- lingering awkwardly in the communal living room, speaking quietly to each other and shooting him impatient glances- the tension is palpable, bubbling with suspicion and teaming with anticipation. Tony isn’t sure if he’s giddy about finally getting his way, or shitting himself with the onset of nerves.

Jesus Christ, the expression on Natasha…

And, yep…that’s the elevator.

“Here we go…” Tony breathes as Pepper, Happy and Clint step out of the heavy metal doors. Lucky coincidence they all arrive together, or unhappy misfortune, he just doesn’t know.

“Alright, Tony, what’s this all about?” His CEO looks uncomfortable as she moves further into the room, her features pinched and wary. Tony feels as though he threw up a little in his mouth.

“Yeah, man,” Clint wrangles as he collapses on the seat between Thor and Steve, jostling the super soldier and prompting a small smile from Thor. Happy looks a little put out that the Archer has stolen his prospective seat, glaring at the other man grumpily before sitting on the edge of the coffee table. Clint grins as he turns back to their ‘host’, “I swear, if this is an engagement party…I’ve got to tell you, Loki…I think you can do better.”

“Engagement party?” Tony turns to Loki with an almost comical grimace, but the God is too busy smirking at Clint to notice. “Come on. This is _me_ we’re talking about! No, no… just,” He turns to Pepper with a reassuring smile (though, damn, if that isn’t going to be a cop out in the next few minutes) and motions to the vacant armchair Rhodey is currently leaning against. “Sit down, would you?”

The strawberry-blonde does so without complaint, sending a quizzical look to Rhodey before lowering herself into the seat. Good. This is good.

He waits for Bruce and Natasha to move closer, crossing the distance from the window to the lounge area, before turning back to Loki. He’s not sure if the tightness of the God’s jaw is a sign of resignation or doubt, but he figures it doesn’t really matter. Everyone’s here. They are doing this and Loki will get over it. Swallowing thickly, Tony reaches around to grasp the back of Loki’s shirt, hoping the weight of his hand will lend comfort, or at least bring the God out of his thoughts.

Clearing his throat, Tony decides it’s time to rip the Band-Aid off (you know…before he starts freaking out…and Loki starts _backing out_ …and his right-ness turns into wrong-ness).

_God, okay…_

“Okay, okay…so before I- _we”_ Loki scoffs loudly, and Tony shoots him a glare, “WE tell you what we need to tell you, I’ve got to ask you to be a little open minded. Like, really fucking open minded…because guys, you are going to lose your shit. I mean, when I found out-”

“Tony,” Rhodey chides, his eyes doing _that thing_ that makes Tony simultaneously shut up, and start talking.

“Yeah,” he sighs softly as he glances about the room, his hand tightening in Loki’s shirt as he meets each and every one of their gazes. “Alright, so I’m just going to say it…because, why not, right? Nothing to lose, everything to gain. But first, just out of curiosity…Kids, you guys like ki-”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Dogs? What about dogs?”

Loki elbows him roughly.

“Shit, okay!” Tony shrieks as he rubs his side, “So, Loki’s pregnant…and we just thought, maybe you guys would want to know? Seeing as we’ll be uhh…growing a baby…and…that-”

“Tony,” it’s Pepper’s voice this time- the first to speak and first to communicate her irritation, “I had three meetings today, one of which I had to leave early just so I could get here-”

“I know! And this is what you’re here for! _Loki._ ” he gestures wildly at the man by his side, now leaning causally against the arm of the couch and looking to all the World like he’s bored brainless, “ _Is. Pregnant!”_

Clint sniggers. “ _Dude!”_

Happy is attempting to hide a smile.

And Rhodey is outright laughing.

Even Steve, the most trusting man ever, is starting to turn pink at the ears, “Tony, you can’t really expect us to believe this. He’s” he turns to Loki, “You’re _a he_.”

“I’m aware.”

Rhodey sniggers, “You sure? Because...”

Loki smiles sweetly, “An invitation, Colonel?”

“Come on, Tony, What’s this really about?” Steve cuts in once more, and Tony finds he’s a little disappointed…a few more minutes and a little prompting from Rhodey, and there’s a good chance Loki’d get his cock out. Well played, Steve. Well played.

“Look,” Tony sighs, stepping forward, “Do you really think I’d be that fucked-up to joke about something like this?”

“No,” Clint smirks, jutting his thumb at Loki, “But he is.”

Tony can feel his frustration building, and Loki laughing by his side is only making it worse. It’s becoming a joke, and if things keep going the way they are, he may as well give up now. _“Loki.”_

“Loki is a Jotnar.”

Thor’s level voice is grounding, and while he knows Loki won’t appreciate his words, Tony sees them as a God send…And yeah, yeah, pun intended.

“Yot-nar?”

Thor smiles at Happy, nodding. “The Jotun are a race of talented shape-shifters, and their physicality is vastly different to that of humans or even the Aesir… pregnancies such as these are not entirely unheard of. My friends,” a grin splits his face, “this is entirely possible!”

“Possible? How can-” Rhodey’s mouth twists in confusion, “Tony?!”

“Like an altered biology…”Bruce murmurs under his breath, his eyes bright as he glances between Loki and Thor, then back to Tony.

Tony smiles widely, “Bruce! I knew you’d-”he points an approving finger at his friend…because thank science _someone_ other than Thor is taking this seriously! “Yes! _Altered biology_ , yes!”

“Brother!” Thor beams, launching from his seat, his arms swinging open in that frightening way which suggests an oncoming hug. “This is wondrous news!”

Loki recoils.

“Wait, no, no, no this is bullshit! It’s a trick, guys, _come on!”_ Clint exclaims incredulously, hysteria creeping into his voice, “ _Nat_ , you can’t be buying this!”

“Yes _, Natasha_ ,” Loki asks, smoothly avoiding the Thunder God with a few quick steps, “What do you think of all… _this?”_

The red-head’s stare is fierce and controlled as she meets the eyes of the Trickster God, now safely stationed on the opposite side of the room and well out of Thor’s reach (unfortunately for Tony, who cops the hug in his stead). “I don’t think you’re lying, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Natasha?” Pepper asks fervently, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

Natasha’s brow softens as she stares at the other woman, her features pressed in an emotion so close to sympathy, “If what Thor says is true-“

“-It is! I assure you!”

Tony struggles out of the God’s arms.

“Then…I’m inclined to believe they are telling the truth. They have nothing to gain.” She shakes her head, “Not from this…”

The room falls silent at the Assassin’s (see: Human Lie-detector’s) words- mouths agape and faces marred by conflicting emotions- panic, disbelief, shock….

 _Shit_ , Clint and Happy look like they’re on the verge of passing out…

“Believe me, Captain Rogers, I felt equally appalled upon the revelation,” Loki quips drily, and Tony almost laughs upon noticing the blonde man’s complexion.

“I…It’s just-” Steve splutters as he casts wide eyes around the room, and Tony has to sympathise. “It’s just so hard to believe!”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees soberly, lips twitching in a wince? A smile? “I know…”

Some days he still doesn’t believe it himself, and if he’s honest, even the days that he _does believe it_ , _he really, really doesn’t._

Doesn’t think about it.

Doesn’t feel that anything’s different.

But then they will be doing something mundane- like making breakfast, or brushing their teeth, and he’ll see Loki doing something indisputably odd, or look indisputably perfect…

And Tony will reel, remember, and think back to that moment all those weeks ago when he was faced with the truth.

When he was faced with that heartbeat.

Tony sends Loki a pointed look, raising his brows and inclining his head towards the bottle of water on the coffee table. With Loki’s now perpetually full bladder, it is probably unnecessary…but whatever, procedure is procedure, and at this point it’s likely best they follow it.

“So, how about a little proof?” Tony asks casually, as Loki rolls his eyes and swipes the water from the table.

No one says anything. Nothing. Not a peep.

Loki snickers into the lip of his bottle and Tony shrugs.

Undeterred, he turns to Bruce, “The ultrasound is all set up in the med-lab...Do you think you could…”

The scientist seems jarred by the question, staring blankly as if unsure of what he’s being asked. “I…Uhh…”

Tony makes a vague motion with his hand, signalling between Loki and the elevator and eventually, and with a sheepish expression on the Scientist’s behalf, it clicks. “Oh! Of-of course!”

“Wonderful!” Clapping his hands, Tony sends an awkward smile to the group (attempting to ignore the fact that Thor is looking indisputably lost, he’s sure _someone_ will explain it to him) “So we’ll be back in half-a’…Please, feel free to drink yourselves stupid. Wine and nibbles are at the bar- hard stuff’s in the cupboard. Pep?”

His CEO looks up- all wide eyes and unbridled confusion. Tony smiles warmly, “You’re coming, right?”

 

* * *

 

“Come on, stand over here.”

Pepper shakes her head, “I feel like I’m intruding.”

“You are.”

“ _Loki!_ ” Tony growls as he glares down at his lover. The God merely raises his brows and settles back against the pillows. “Fuck him. I want you here. Come on.”

Pepper shakes her head again, her expression stubborn and strangely rattled “Really, I’m okay where I am.”

Tony shrugs. He isn’t going to push her- she clearly doesn’t want him to, and Loki would probably get pissy if he did. Instead, he turns his attention to Bruce. The Scientist is all business as he adjusts the equipment, fiddling with the transducer and reaching for the bottle of ultrasound gel.

“Uhh, do you-?”Bruce sounds unsure as he looks over at Loki, and Tony smiles, taking the bottle from his friend and motioning for Loki to roll up his t-shirt. Bruce smiles back thankfully- the guy is a professional, no doubt, but this is more than a little unusual, and Tony can understand his hesitation.

Loki grunts softly as he adjusts himself on the table, slapping Tony’s hand away when he attempts to help in undoing the top two buttons of his jeans. Tony just rolls his eyes, and lets to stubborn God struggle on his own, playing idly with the cap of the gel as Loki reluctantly exposes his abdomen.

It’s funny how one slice of skin can cause all the air to be sucked from a room.

Not that he hadn’t expected this reaction- because, let’s face it, they are all familiar enough with Loki’s shirtless self to know that that curve shouldn’t be there. It’s almost proof enough.

Still, Tony is kind of curious to see his kid again, after all these weeks. Loki’s what- six month along? In human terms, Tony guesses that means he’s coming in on the four month- ergo definitely time for a second ultrasound- the little dude (dudette?) has to be more than a weird-shaped head and a heartbeat by now.

Shooting a wink at Loki, Tony shakes the gel and squeezes a long stripe across the God’s stomach- he considered using the clear goo to scrawl his initials over the God’s skin (much like he often does with chocolate sauce, or maple syrup, or that one time with canned cheese) but wisely he decides that it would be better saved for Ultrasound number three when tensions are not so high, and witnesses considerably less jumpy.

Loki’s muscles twitch at the touch of the cool gel, his eyes closing for a moment as he tilts his head back. Bruce waits for him to settle before setting the transducer against his abdomen, his eyes straying briefly to Pepper, brows crinkling sympathetically, before rising to the monitor.

There’s no real suspense this time round- at least not for Tony- there’s just a few quick movements of Bruce’s wrist and then it’s _there_. Clear as fucking day. He can see features now, eyes, nose, a tiny mouth.

A soft gasp sounds from behind them, and Pepper is suddenly drawing closer. Tony turns to her with a grin and Bruce lets out an incredulous laugh, “Remind me to stop doubting you, Tone.”

“Come on! You take away the doubt, you take away the challenge! _Fuck!”_ He shakes his head, feeling pretty incredulous himself as he stares up at the screen. “It’s still weird.”

Loki mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like _‘it could have been weirder’,_ and Tony looks down at him with an amused smile, “What? Were we expecting horns?”

The God tilts a shoulder ambiguously, before glancing back at the projection.

And Tony’s stomach drops. _“Lo’…?”_

Loki shakes his head ( _not now, Stark)._

He’s right. Now’s not the time. But…

Leaning over the med table, Tony touches a hand to Loki’s jaw, drawing the God’s eyes back to his own. There’s annoyance there, and maybe even a brewing threat, but Tony smiles and cups his face anyway, dipping down to press his lips to his.

Loki doesn’t kiss back- not right away- but Tony can feel him relax slightly and he considers that a small victory.

“Banner,” Loki speaks up when Tony finally releases him, prompting a politely inquisitive expression from the Scientist, despite the God’s blunt tone. “You have experience in these matters, in terms of…human development, is it-“

“Normal?”

The Trickster’s brow does little more than crinkle, his face an almost perfect mask, but to everyone in the room he may as well be nodding the affirmative- his concerns so blatantly clear.

Bruce smiles wanly, “If I didn’t know of the child’s mixed heritage…I would have to assume it’s completely human.” he turns back to the monitor, one hand moving to nudge his specs higher on his nose, “Probably sixteen- seventeen weeks, judging by the size.”

“Twenty-five, actually.” Loki corrects casually, seemingly appeased by the doctor’s words. Tony finds it somewhat intriguing how quickly Bruce recovers and accepts this new information, merely pursing his lips as he studies their child with a new interest.

 _Their child._ Jesus. It’s starting to look like one too- with it’s tiny fingers and toes, curling, uncurling.

“Would I be right in saying the difference in size is due to a prolonged gestation rather than growth abnormality?”

“You would be right in saying that, yes.” Loki confirms, but does not elaborate.

Bruce hums in thought as he continues to study the screen, taking a few additional measurements before removing the transducer from Loki’s skin. “Not knowing anything of Jotun pregnancy, it’s hard to establish an exact due date…but,” Bruce turns to the two of them with an almost pitying expression, “unless there is a sudden surge in growth rate, I’d say you’ve got at least another six to seven months.”

Loki sighs, as Tony runs a comforting hand through his hair, “Yes, I concluded as much myself.”

They’d pretty much come to terms with the possibility of an (excruciatingly) long pregnancy rather early on, but Tony gets the feeling that having it confirmed is rather harrowing for Loki.

“Tony?”

Pepper’s voice is strained, her expression is even more so. “I-uhh…” she shakes her head, her brows pinched harshly, “look, I know this is all…I mean I know you didn’t plan it…but...Why didn’t you tell me? You’ve known six months and-”

Tony’s body seizes up as her eyes well, and guilt immediately floods in. Apparently this is one of those rare moments that Pepper allows herself to lose control, to cry, to be confused, _betrayed._

He’s become too intimate with these moments, especially since Loki came into the picture.

He plasters on a tight smile, “Well, in my defence, _I’ve_ only known for _three_ …” he throws a playful glare at Loki, keeping his tone light in hopes to dispel the tension.

It doesn’t work.

Loki is sitting up, a scowl on his face and an antagonistic look in his eyes, when he speaks he’s speaking to Tony but it is obvious who his real target is, “I fail to understand why you need to justify your actions to her. Is this not our matter, Stark?” The God swings his legs over the side of the table, taking the towel from Bruce when he silently offers it, “How and when others factor in to _our matter_ is entirely _our_ prerogative.”

Tony’s gaze snaps from Loki to Pepper, his hands rising in an attempt to mollify, “Alright, loo-”

“We’re _his family!”_ Pepper cries, her voice gaining edge as she zeros in on his cantankerous lover.

Loki doesn’t flinch (which is kind of impressive because when that tone is directed at Tony he’s pretty much flinching all over the place- but anyway), not the God of Mischief, he just carefully wipes the gel from his stomach, buttons his pants and slides casually from the table, t-shirt slipping down to cover that controversial strip of skin. “That may be so, Miss. Potts,” Loki agrees darkly, leaning his hip against the table, and grazing one slender hand across the small of Tony’s back (yep, he’s short-circuiting), “but you are _first tier_ no longer. You are no more a part of _this_ family,” he gestures with one finger between Tony and himself “than Thor is a part of mine.”

….

…

Silence falls and Tony’s brain reels with… _what the fuck?!_

Because, wow?

Not really how he’d planned for this to go.

Did he just call them a family?

And Pepper’s face…

“Pep…” he reaches for the woman who means so much, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears as she gently shrugs him away, “You know how much-”

“I know.” her eyes close as she folds her arms around herself, reopening a few seconds later on the peak of a calming breath, “And…he’s right. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you to come to terms with...all this, and it’s really no one’s business but your own. I’m-” a sad but genuine smile crosses her lips- a testament to the strong woman she is, “I’m happy for you. I’m happy for _both of you.”_

Stepping forward, Tony pulls Pepper to his chest, enveloping her in his arms and breathing her in. He’s not good at this stuff, not good at speaking his emotions…but she knows that better than anyone… “Thank you.”

He can feel her nod against his neck, her skin sticky with the trickle of tears.

“So, ahh-” Bruce clears his throat “I guess I should be getting back up there- you know, share the good news.”

Pepper pulls away with a wet smile, touching her palm to Tony’s cheek in a gesture that is painfully affectionate, before turning to Bruce with a nod, “I’ll come with you…I’m sure some of the boys will need some further convincing.”

Bruce laughs softly as he steps around the med table, “Something tells me the real convincing will have to wait till morning- Clint’s probably three sheets to the wind by now.”

Tony snorts, he’s probably right.

“Anyway,” Bruce claps a hand to Tony’s shoulder, smiling warmly at his friend, before extending a hand to Loki, “Congratulations you two.”

“Thank you, Dr. Banner.” Loki replies curtly as he returns the hand shake and Tony is somewhat relieved that things are finally winding down.

Loki is going to need a nap after all this, Tony’s sure of it.

In fact, Tony’s going to insist upon it.

Then join him.

Definitely join him.

Okay, so maybe Tony just wants a fucking nap. _Or a fucking then a nap._

“Tony?” Pepper asks tentatively as she lingers by the door, pulling Tony from his escalating thoughts, “You _do_  know you're going to have to tell Fury, right?”

Ahh, _that._

A mischievous smirk steals across his face, and Loki steps up behind him.

They’ve not forgotten about Fury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the cat's out of the bag! Hope you liked the chapter! Thanks so much for sticking with me though my incredibly slow updating schedule! Love you all!


	11. Running Hot and Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avenger's like a little friendly competition, and things run hot and cold. Fluff is abundant.

“What about wasabi?”

“Wasabi?” Tony scoffs, “It’s got no real after burn…maybe added to something else, but by itself…?” he shakes his head, his eyes returning to Loki as he takes a teaspoon to a small jar of salsa, “Nah, no way.”

Clint shrugs as he sorts through the various bottles spread across the counter, “Hey, Nat! This your contribution?”

Tony leans over to see the bottle in Clint’s hand- a chilli sauce with a bright yellow label and a tacky plastic spider wrapped around the lid and neck.

Natasha rolls her eyes when she catches sight of the gaudy logo. ‘Widow’s Bite’. “ _Oh, please_. I have a little more taste than that.” She smirks slyly, “ _This_ is mine.”

The red-head fishes a thin bottle with a white label from the clutter- a crude cartoon emblazoned on the front. Tony grins as he reaches around Clint to take it from her hand.

“Oh-ho-ho! That’s a new one!” Tony laughs as he reads from the bottle, “’Smack my ass and call me Sally…The Slap, hottest hot sauce’ nice…and might I say, _subtle_. Lo’ you gotta try this one!”

The God cocks his head in a devil-may-care gesture, “Hand it over then.”

Opening the lid, Tony gives the contents a quick sniff, before passing the bottle to Loki. It smells much the same as the others have, like tomato paste and capsicum, but the tell-tale tickle it ignites in his throat is fine testament to the severity of its heat.

He coughs, and Loki smirks at him knowingly, “Shut up.”

The God snickers as he shakes a generous amount of the chilli sauce onto his spoon, drawing all the eyes in the room like a magician about to perform his greatest trick- even Bruce, who has been largely caught up in his cooking, turns to watch the spectacle.

There’s no hesitation when he slides the utensil between his lips, sucking the paste from the silverware with not so much as a blink. It figures, really, considering all the shit he’s tried over the past hour, let alone the past four weeks...

 

Everyone has gotten in on it- ever since the God’s cravings kicked in and he started expressing the need for foods with extreme temperatures, whether that means mind numbing cold or excruciating heat, the Avenger’s have taken it as an opportunity to test Loki’s ‘pain threshold’. With the cold options being somewhat limited (well, unless they wanted to attempt feeding him dry ice), the game quickly turned to the hot side- first with scolding temperatures and then with the more chemically induced burn- namely chilli’s.

So far they have had mixed results. Coulson’s creation, strangely enough (strange because Tony still doesn’t know how the guy found out about Loki’s cravings, or that he was obsessed with his magic bullet) is still the reigning champion as far as preferences go, and the only thing that’s teased more than an indifferent shrug from the picky God. Tony had just about gawked when everyone’s favourite Agent showed up at Stark Tower with paper work in one hand and a clear plastic Tupperware container in the other.

His visit had come some two and a half weeks after Tony and Loki made their little announcement, during which Tony had spent more than enough time in ‘talks’ with Fury, going over contract adjustments, and all the affiliated terms and conditions which come with having a half-alien half-human hybrid with your semi-psychotic, arguably villainous, ex-crim of a lover.

The meeting was all very amicable, with Coulson taking the newest plot twist with an amused smirk, a few strategically placed quips, home-made chilli paste and the hopes of winning a fifty.

He didn’t win. But Tony gave him the fifty anyway in return for the rest of the paste, because while it didn’t make Loki flinch like it was meant to, he did rather enjoy the flavour.

Fury though…

That meeting was less than amicable.

They met in one of the lower levels of Stark Tower, a room used for investors meetings, or some shit that Tony couldn’t care less about. It didn’t matter, just as long as they weren’t meeting at S.H.I.E.L.D.

Because Fury was going to be angry.

Fury **was** angry.

And Tony, for the life of him, couldn’t understand why….

Okay, so he could, because if anyone were to rig his Suit into blaring the cringe-worthy lyrics of ‘Papa Don’t Preach’, he’d be pretty angry too…

But come on, hacking the Helicarrier was just a bit of fun- and it’s not like he hadn’t sent a tasteful e-card in explanation, all nicely worded, and impeccably illustrated…

Uncle Fuzzy just has no sense of humour.

_“Is this your idea of a joke?” the Director had demanded incredulously, and Tony merely shrugged, eyes shining eerily sober despite the smile on his lips._

_“To the contrary.” He’d replied, leaning forward in his seat, “The Helicarrier was a joke. The e-card was a joke. But about our kid, I am completely serious.”_

 

“So what’s the verdict then, David Blaine?”

Loki taps the spoon thoughtfully against his bottom lip, as he swirls the sauce in his mouth. Just the fact that he can do that is evidence enough to Tony that the stuff has had little effect on him, still, he has to admire Loki’s ability to build the suspense.

“It’s…” The God casts his eyes around at his audience, features twisted in mild surprise “good, actually.”

Tony laughs as Clint surges forward in bemusement, “What? Really?”

Loki just levels the Archer with a deadpan expression, “No. It’s a paltry example at best.”

Natasha huffs quietly as she shakes her head, sharing a smile with Bruce before the scientist turns back to his cooking. “Guess that’s me out then.”

“Hey, hey,” Clint chortles childishly, “so, mine was better, right? Loki?”

Loki rolls his eyes as he reaches for a thin stick of celery, dipping it in to Natasha’s attempt before cracking another jar and dipping it in that also, “Barton, your offering did not even register- Rogers’ had more fire.”

Clint splutters, “Bullshit! Rogers didn’t even try!”

“My point.”

Tony shakes his head as Loki sucks the red sauce from his celery, seemingly more interested in his food than listening to Clint’s whining, much to the Archer’s chagrin.

Not for the first time, Tony wonders if Clint’s interest in Loki is a residual effect of the mind-control, or whether it has more to do with the way the God’s been looking lately. Truth is, if Tony were a jealous man (which he totally isn’t- _come on_ ), or if he didn’t have it on good authority that Clint is a pussy about these things (uhh- how many years has he spent pining over Natasha?) the engineer would be feeling a little bit worried about the development.

Or the developing development. Because Loki knows what he’s doing, and Tony’s not so naïve as to think the Trickster bastard wouldn’t fuck the Archer just for the shits and giggles.

Because Loki’s an A-hole.

A slutty A-hole, when he wants to be.

And Tony is still not jealous.

Staring across the room, Tony watches as Bruce ladles the curry from one pot to another, “All done, Bruce-y? Want me to have J call the troops?”

A rather ominous laugh sounds from the other side of the kitchen , “Uh-uh-uh! This is just ours…I haven’t even started on _Loki’s_ ” Four sets of eyes follow the scientist as he begins pulling things from the depths of a large canvas bag set upon the counter. How had he not noticed that?

“Though, a word of warning…” Bruce smiles smugly as he pulls a large…wait…

“Shit, is that a-”

Natasha grins, “Uh-huh.”

“Fuck yes---!” Tony guffaws as Bruce slings the gas mask atop his head.

This game just got serious!

“Yeah, you guys might want to clear out for a good forty-five minutes…”

 

* * *

 

Taking Bruce’s ambitious advice, the four retreat from the kitchen, Clint and Natasha wandering off to the gym, or the pool, or where ever the hell assassins go to kill a few hours (hey, maybe Clint isn’t such a pussy after all), and leaving Tony and Loki to return to the penthouse, where they decide to forgo anything productive and curl up on the lounge for an hour or so.

Loki sits with his back to the armrest, Tony’s back to the other and their legs entwined somewhere in the middle. It’s a rare moment of quiet in a hectic couple of months, and Tony finds he’s rather enjoying the tranquillity, the soft chatter of the television and Loki’s even breathing...It’s nice.

Fuck, who is he kidding? He’s bored already.

“Hey, Legs?” Tony breaks the silence, deciding that this is as good a time as any to ask something which has been playing on his mind for days, “You know if Thor’s planning on telling your not-daddy?”

Loki doesn’t open his eyes, but his discomfort shows through the tense shifting of his shoulders. So maybe now isn’t the best time, per se, but when will it ever be? Surely, it’s better to get this stuff out in the open before it becomes an issue or whatever...

God, Odin is always an issue…

Tony slides his hand over Loki’s ankle, his fingers edging passed worn denim to caress the skin beneath. He squeezes the limb softly, hoping to coax an answer whilst simultaneously apologising for asking the question in the first place. It works, apparently, because within a few minutes Loki is speaking, though his voice barely reaches a hum-drum drawl, “He said he wouldn’t be the one to speak of it.”

Tony purses his lips, thumb moving in small circles over the God’s skin, “So, that’s a good thing, right? The longer we keep him in the dark, the better?”

Just as before, Loki takes his time to respond, mulling the question thoroughly before sitting up with a weary sigh. “Yes, but…I rather think he’ll be privy to the information within the week nonetheless…” he meets Tony’s eyes with some reluctance, “And it will be through no fault of Thor’s…unfortunately.”

“What, so…” Tony frowns as he sifts through the possibilities, hand pausing in its’ ministrations,“Heimdall?”

Loki nods, his lips forming a tight line.

“But you’ve always cloaked yourself! You-” Tony cuts himself off as the pieces slide into place. When he speaks again, it isn’t a question- the look in Loki’s eyes confirmation enough, “Your magic is on the fritz.”

“My magic is on the fritz, yes.” The God agrees sullenly, his gaze skirting away from Tony’s, “I seem to have lost control over some of my more instinctual magics…teleportation, shifting, illusions…the spells that come most easily” He shakes his head, “Thankfully, I am able to find alternatives through rune or potion based spells, but after relying on my natural abilities for so long, it is incredibly tedious.”

Tony frowns as he takes this in, the impromptu shopping trip suddenly making a whole lot more sense, let alone the- “Wait…is this why you were gone so long? Fuck, Loki, I thought it was weird you hadn’t tried to nick off again!”

Loki rolls his eyes, finally levelling Tony with a patronising stare, “Stark, when I desire to leave, you know I will find a way- with or without my magic.”

Sitting forward, Tony runs both his hands up over the God’s bent knees, body moving so he is seated between them. “Awwww, Lo’,” he leers playfully, “this your way of saying you actually _like_ spending time with me? Not that I blame you, mind you…but, awww- it just-” his voice breaks mockingly, one hand splayed over his heart, “It just gets me _here,_ y’know?”

“Fuck off, Stark.” The God sneers, one foot springing forth to kick at the laughing engineer. Tony just bats the limb away and pushes himself closer. “I assure you, I’m enjoying your presence far less by the second.”

“Now, now,” Tony tuts cheekily, resting his cheek against one of Loki’s raised knees. The Trickster doesn’t look impressed, so with a waning chuckle, Tony attempts to sober up, “So, no teleportation, huh? That sucks.”

Loki frowns, “Indeed.”

“Kind’a funny that that was the first thing to go, though…”

The Engineer’s tone is verging on mischievous, and the God regards him warily, “How so?”

“Come on, Loki…” Tony taunts, his mind dredging up images from two years ago, just days before their relationship became public knowledge and everything grew more complicated, “It’s just like that time I got you stoned.”

Loki groans, running a hand down his face, obviously remembering the scene in vivid detail, “Norns, don’t remind me.”

Tony grins, “That happens to be one of my favourite memories!”

The God peeks at him through his fingers, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, “I highly doubt Doctor Banner would share your sentiments.”

“Hey, Bruce looked more disgusted when he thought I was naked and stoned by myself than when you suddenly popped into existence and tripped over the coffee table! I mean, _seriously!_ What’s up with that? You were, like, number one shit-stirrer, _pants-less_ in our _lounge room_ and _he_ zeros in on the fact that I’m _smoking weed_. Fuck!”

Loki laughs, tilting his head to rest against the back of the lounge, “His priorities may be skewed, but they did work in our favour.”

“Yeah, I guess. Still, would have been pretty funny if he’d- woah!” Tony jerks back as Loki suddenly jolts forward, sitting up as if someone had taken a knife to his stomach, “What the fuck-?”

The God’s eyes are wide, shoulders curling inward and hands hovering as if he does not know what to do with them. Tony has seen his hands twitch like that many times now, and instantly his gaze drops to the new curve of Loki’s abdomen, a cold feeling of dread settling in his bones.

“Babe?”

Loki doesn’t reply, just draws his legs away from Tony and slides his feet to the floor, eyes staring blankly at a spot on the carpet.

Tony mirrors the movement, sitting beside the tense God and placing a warm hand on his shoulder, “Loki, you gotta talk to me.” He urges, slowly edging closer. Loki flinches away, springing from the lounge and stalking towards the window, one hand raised to his mouth.

Tony gapes, mind reeling with what could be whiplash _. “Loki!”_ he tries again, standing from the lounge and crossing the room. The stillness of Loki’s body is terrifying, jarring in a way that Tony can’t even begin to understand, and the closer he draws, the deeper the pit in his stomach becomes.

The thing about Loki is that no matter how much Tony whinges and plies, he won’t talk until he’s good and ready. This doesn’t stop Tony from whinging and plying, of course, because it’s what he does and he’s good at it, plus he likes the way Loki’s face gets this pinched look, as if he’s trying his hardest not to smash the engineer’s head through the drywall...it’s touching, really- shows how much he cares…but anyway, despite his love of running his mouth, Tony knows when to shut up, so when he comes to stand beside the God, he doesn’t do more than that.

They stand in silence for going on ten minutes, almost shoulder to shoulder as they look out over New York. From this height, the outlook mainly consists of the tops of buildings and the grey of an overcast sky, but Tony gets the feeling that neither of them is particularly interested in the view. Instead, his eyes lock on Loki’s reflection in the glass, hoping to gauge what the God is going through, but somewhat comforted in the knowledge that if it were serious, Loki would have told him by now. Or he hopes he would.

This goes on for some moments more, before a hand curling around his own draws his eyes to the God, a tentative touch of fingers which is so uncharacteristic that it causes Tony’s breath to hitch in his throat. He looks up at the man beside him, their eyes meeting briefly before Loki breaks contact and turns back to the window.

Tony’s got to admit that this silence is getting ridiculous, and he’s about to tell Loki so when the God suddenly raises their hands and places Tony’s palm to the curve of his abdomen. Until now, touching Loki’s stomach was a punch-able offence, with even the Trickster himself avoiding the area beyond what is necessary, so this…This is weird.

Weird and very, very confusing.

“Uhh-?” Tony gapes unintelligently, “What are—”

His hand jerks back, and his eyes blow wide. Loki is looking at him as if he’d been expecting this reaction, features solemn as he waits for him to calm down.

It takes longer than it should- hell, shouldn’t he be excited? Isn’t that what normal people feel at times like this? So why are they acting like they’ve been given a death sentence?

Sucking in a shuddering breath, Tony attempts to gather himself, because he has to- he has to face this head on.

Taking a few short steps, he situates himself between Loki and the window, throwing a cautionary glance up at the God (and receiving a slight nod in return) before reaching out to cup his hands to Loki’s stomach. A few short breaths pass where he feels nothing, but before he can pull away (see: give up) Loki places his hand atop one of his own, and repositions the digit slightly lower on his body. It’s an odd feeling, and he can’t even imagine what it must be like for Loki- something akin to a pulse or a…twitch, maybe? Whatever it is, it is faint- barely there- but to Tony it feels like a shovel to the head.

“Fuuucccckkkkk…” he exhales as he pulls his hands away, once again taking his place at Loki’s side and training his eyes on the window. “This is…this is getting real.”

Loki nods numbly, “I felt something akin to this some days ago, but thought nothing of it…this is…”

“Are you okay?” it’s a stupid question, especially when he can see the emotions playing across the God’s features, hear the way he trailed off, the way he swallowed so damn thickly- but he knows he has to say something, anything. He’s not allowed to be a coward in this situation. He’s got to be comforting. He’s got to be strong… But damn it, he’s just so overwhelmed.

It’s Loki taking his hand that brings him out of himself, a gentle tug pulling him away from the window. “Come.” The Trickster coaxes, confident and consoling, and everything Tony wants to be.

“I want to fuck you in the shower before dinner.”

_Oh my perfect God._

 

* * *

 

Tony is a strong believer that a good fucking is essential when trying to gain perspective.

So is seeing Loki naked.

Man, Loki looks amazing naked…not to mention, he’s sort of let up on the while no touching the new territory bit, which pleases Tony a lot.

It’s odd, how attracted Tony is to Loki with a baby bump, and yet, until today he’s never really realised what it means. You know, the holy-shit-there’s-something-living-inside-you thing? Even after the ultrasounds, and the morning sickness, and the cravings, it really did take _feeling it_ , to hit the idea home. Sure, the all-consuming, heart-stopping, piss-in-your-pants fear is still there…but there’s also an allure...or maybe not allure. An itch. An itch to touch- or just _to know._

Just _something._

And Tony thinks that that _something_ has to be a good thing.

A good thing like shower sex is a good thing.

Even if it meant they are somewhat late for dinner and…

“Oh fuck! Get’a load of you two!”

…looking completely shagged out.

Tony smirks at Clint, not even sorry, as they move to sit at the table, Natasha taking that moment to wander in from the kitchen balancing three bowls of Bruce’s non-lethal curry in her hands, and Steve following after with yet another bowl and a jug of milk in hand.

“So, Loki…” Natasha addresses casually, setting the meals out before Tony, Clint and one for herself, “you might need to sit up the end there…save the rest of us the fumes.”

Loki raises a disbelieving brow.

“She’s serious,” Steve chips in, pointing at the God’s designated seat- the head of the table with two empty chairs to either side.

Loki, whether out of surprise or intrigue, actually does what he’s told, slinking down into the seat and out-right laughing when the Captain sets the milk down before him, muttering a good natured “Just in case” before taking his own seat a little down the line.

Loki shakes his head, “With all this fanfare, I am beginning to hope Doctor Banner succeeds.”

“I don’t.”

Four sets of eyes turn to him expectantly, and Tony grins at the attention, “What? If anyone’s getting you hot and bothered, it’s gunna be me.” He sweeps a hand to the God on his right, the still damp tangles of hair, and the satiated look in his eyes, “Exhibit A, my friends. Exhibit A.”

His lover rolls his eyes, much as everyone else does, Steve’s cheeks taking on a pink tint.

“Do I want to know?” Bruce asks as he meanders into the room, somewhat pink cheeked himself and carrying two bowls of curry, one held close to his chest and the other propelled as far away from himself as possible.

The scent of spices, curry and highly concentrated capsicum fumes fill the room and it is no question as to why Bruce is so flushed. Clint coughs softly beside him, and Tony really can’t blame him- the stuff is potent and he’s pretty damn grateful that he won’t be eating it. Loki, on the other hand, is looking more avidly excited than they’ve seen him in ages, a smile to the corner of his mouth and green eyes flashing bright.

Bruce sets the bowl before him, and takes a seat with his own. Usually meals with the Avengers are silent, non-eventful things, with everyone wolfing down their dinner as quickly as possible- sometimes with a little friendly competition thrown in (especially when Thor is joining them), but tonight no one even moves to pick up their cutlery, just sit with curious eyes focused on the God at the end of the table.

With a huff of a laugh, Loki picks up his fork and dips the prongs into the curry, lifting the utensil to his mouth without any qualms. He chews slowly, rolling the food in his mouth, taking two more bites before finally pausing in his movements.

“Stark,” Loki speaks deliberately, eyes staring into his bowl and hand outstretched “hand me your wallet.”

“Really?” Tony splutters, numbly reaching for his wallet anyway. He passes it to Loki, with a comically dumbfounded expression, only now recognising the faint blush to the God’s usually sheet-white face.

He’s done it.

Bruce, the amazing, god-damn bastard, has done it!

A stunned silence settles over the group as Loki pulls one-hundred dollars from the billfold and holds it out to the scientist.

The bet was for fifty.

“Shit. _Bruce!”_ Clint crows, rising a hand to high-five the man across from him. The Scientist meets his hand lamely, apparently too shocked to comprehend what’s fully going on.

“I must thank you, Doctor Banner, for your efforts.”

Bruce nods dumbly, “You’re…uh…You’re welcome.”

Loki smiles as he dips his fork back into his meal, and for some strange reason, of all the things that have happened today, it’s this moment that makes Tony feel giddy.

 

* * *

 

Sometime later, meals were finished, drinks were had, and a hungry, blonde god showed up at the dining room door...

 

They should have stopped him.

Warned him, at least.

But when Loki stood from his seat, bowl in hand, and followed his brother into the kitchen, even the Captain didn’t say a word.

The table was silent as they waited, conspiratorial smiles passing between friends and Steve beginning to look sheepish.

Loki returned moments later with his bowl refilled, and a smirk on his lips, an ungodly shriek filtering in from behind him, followed by a shrill smash, and the frantic running of a faucet.

 

They should have felt guilty...

They should have _all_ felt guilty.

No one was surprised to find that only Steve did.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Thor...Still, who could resist?
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed the vast amounts of fluff in this chapter. Things will give way to more serious matters eventually, but for now, enjoy the warm and fuzzies. Next chapter we will be seeing a little Brotherly bonding time- or in other words, Loki endures Thor's company for more than five minutes. 
> 
> Thanks so much for all the love! I appreciate it so much! And Hope you all have a Happy Easter!

**Author's Note:**

> Please Review!


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